


2120

by WhiskeyAdams



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-01-11 14:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 97,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiskeyAdams/pseuds/WhiskeyAdams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU,The year is 2120, corruption has poisoned the country and the only thing standing between the mobsters and their goal is the Warehouse-a system of law enforcement agencies that started as private detective agencies now the most powerful and effective crime fighting entity-the only one left uncorrupted. Ex homicide detective Myka Bering is Shanghaied into joining the 13 rendition</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude: Welcome to the New World

The future did not live up to expectations, much like it never does. Technological, engineering and even social advances came to a screeching halt in the middle of the twenty first century as war ravaged parts of the tired planet. The armistice that was called to cease the near constant blood shed held in its contracts that all advances in every field of science be shared freely between the warring countries.

Due to the pride of a handful men who had more money between themselves than the combined means of the countries they ruled, since then there have been no major advancements.

The following fifty years bred corruption and a struggle for power in the United States. After the war and countless scrimmages that followed, America lost what remained of its objective sense of morality on its bloody journey back to the top of the world. He with the most money and bigger forces ruled the world, and that became the United States.

The change with it her own boarders was drastic as well. Corruption poisoned the states since the end of the depression in 2030. The era of the mobsters was reborn. They were more cunning, better connected and far more lethal than those that came before.

Law enforcement agencies, judges, senators, even a few presidents were kept snuggly in the back pockets of the most notorious criminals. It was they who were the movers of the pieces on the chess board. It was they who helped America bounce back with their questionable motives and two wars with competing nations- China and Russia.

The presence of these gangs, these _mobs_ , became a normal part of American life. Three competing forces who called themselves family. Their personal grievances and wars, their _influences_ were felt nation wide.

The Hive’s strong hold watched over the east coast. Manifestus Fatum had a firm grip on the west coast and half the Sothern states. The Brotherhood’s empire expanded in the Midwest and northern states. And they owned and ran everything. They competed with each other constantly over matters of pride, territory, power, _everything_. They wanted their own states to flourish while destroying the others.

This bastardization of the country lead to what came to be called “The Warehouse.” Established in New York City, the epicenter of The Hive’s power, they strived for something that had been lacking in the country for a long time: Justice. They began as a private detective agency, an alternative for the citizens to turn to. It steadily grew in size and power as it dismantled the mob’s headquarters, and the citizens grew to trust them more than the local law enforcement, long since having transformed into its own volatile gang.

They didn’t kill The Hive, however, only caused it to move its stronghold south. So Warehouse 2 was built in Florida. It, too, began small, bat gained trust and power in the community in which it was built.

By the time the plans for Warehouse 4 were underway, a president, uncorrupted by money, power or fear, declared the Warehouse a legitimate law enforcement agency with the full backing of the United States government. He lasted only half of one term before his assassination- unsolved to this day- but his decree remained.

Slowly, Warehouses were slowly erected in many eastern states as they chased the Hive out of each one. Warehouse’s in Georgia, North Carolina, Massachusetts, West Virginia, Tennessee, Alabama, Ohio, Connecticut, Indiana and in Louisiana. Twelve in all. They worked hard, each with hundreds of agents and dozens of lawyers, each working to rid their states of the Hive, of all corruption.

What the Regents who created this system of Warehouses failed to realize was that, while the Hive’s influence was dwindling, the two remaining mobs still had sure footing in their states, and their power was only increasing with the loss of the competition.

Univille, South Dakota, had been a small in the middle of nowhere town once upon a time, before the Brotherhood had planted its roots there in 2098. The town had been dead, closed stores, poor citizens fighting to survive. They had seen the Brotherhood as a saving grace. They had flooded the small town with money. They built it up, created jobs and a flourishing market, a thriving city suddenly very much alive. It became one of the top five cities in the world.

The Brotherhood was sure to keep this town mostly free of their criminal enterprise, focusing on other cities in their expanding territory. But still it became sick with the crime that infected all major cities.

This was the place the Regents decided to build Warehouse 13 quietly. It was so far from the sister Warehouses, and they knew so little about this new threat, but they felt the need to begin here. They were working in the school of thought that said the best way to kill a snake was to cut off the head. They would keep it a small, covert branch until they could find a way to decimate the Brotherhood as they had the Hive.

Then came the tricky part of finding the personnel they would need. Strong individuals with an incorruptible constitution. Many of their sworn agents were veterans of the latest war in Russia, had high degrees and clean records.

The Regent placed in charge of this new Warehouse took these facts into consideration when she began her search for possible candidates. But ultimately, the list she compiled had the high Regents concerned. They allowed her choices to be recruited, on the condition that she keep them well informed on all of the agents and their progress.

Jane Lattimer agreed whole heartedly. She had a vibe about the people contained in the folders on her lap. Yes, these people were the best possible individuals for the difficult task ahead of them, she was sure about it.

Warehouse 13 would become the strongest, most feared and revered entity in the United States.


	2. You Have Been Selected

Myka Bering stood behind her desk, as she had been for over forty minutes. Not speaking, not moving, just staring for a while at the box that was filled with the things she would take back to her apartment.

Her eyes flitted downward to the objects she still grasped tightly. In one hand, her nine millimeter service pistol, the other, her gold detectives shield.

With her eyes squeezed shut and a deep breath, she set her badge down. Keeping her eyes closed, she let her muscle memory work, disassembling her weapon. Her compulsive tendencies dictated that she open her eyes to place the parts of her gun on the desk in a specific order.

Keeping her head held high, she grabbed her box of personal effects and walked through the bull pen. Part of her wished the other officers would wait until she was gone to begin whispering about her. Her rational side knew it wouldn’t really make a difference, they had been talking about her for months, a lot longer than the investigation that just ended, and they would continue to talk after she walked out the door.

“Suspended indefinitely” was just another way to say Myka was fired, skipping the messy union lawyer business. She deserved as much, after all her partner, the rising star of the department, had been killed.

The call came in at three am for Myka and Sam to respond to a disturbance. Normally that was for the beat cops to handle, but it was tied to a case they had been working on and no other units were available.

Myka had been asleep when her phone rang, she was groggy as the dispatcher gave her the details, she stumbled as she pulled on clothes. It took her maybe two minutes longer than usual, an amount of time inconsequential, and easily made up for when Myka flipped the siren of her car on and floored the gas pedal.

Detective Bering arrived at the abandoned Warehouse ten minutes after the call came in. An impressive response time, but Sam Martino had still beaten her there, his own car already parked near the back alley.

Myka’s service pistol was drawn as she moved through the building, its familiar weight giving her courage. All was quiet, and she was slowly beginning to believe it was a false alarm. That was when she saw him, lying still on the dirty cement floor.

Her heart pounded in her ears as she continued towards him, her arms swinging around, gun pointing every direction to cover the darkened building. But it was empty. Only her and her downed partner remained.

Weapon holstered, Detective Bering fell to her knees beside her partner’s body. She didn’t see the gunshot wound at first, his dark suit hiding it in the dim lighting. She touched him, feeling for a pulse, a breath, anything to indicate life. Her hands came away wet with his blood.

Sam was dead. Just like that. Her mentor and partner of three years was gone. Myka managed to compartmentalize her feelings and called it in.

She didn’t allow herself to feel anything until after the coroner drove away with Sam’s body and the backup she had called for had finished their sweep, turning up nothing, not evidence of any kind.

They refused to let Myka see the body. She snagged a coroner’s report, it told her Sam died as a result of a single gunshot wound to the chest. It pierced his lungs. It took him five minutes to bleed out and die. Alone on the cold floor as the murderers got away.

Myka was sitting in the dark of her apartment, a glass of Jack in her hand. Her heart was finally allowed to feel the extent of her loss. Her partner, her best and only friend was dead. Capitan Dickenson wouldn’t even allow Myka to be the one to inform Sam’s wife. She was sent home after finishing her reports and handing them over to another detective.

She was removed from the case.

So she drank, trying to simultaneously mourn her loss and feel numb. That’s when the internal affairs detectives knocked on her door and put her in cuffs. She didn’t even have a chance to change, so the two detectives paraded her through the police station barefoot, wearing her pajamas and the silver bracelets that dug painfully into her wrists.

They ignored her questions as they demanded she answer theirs. Why had she arrived so long after her partner? Where had she been in the amount of time it had taken Detective Martino to die? Did she have an alibi? Why did her breath smell of alcohol? Did she have a drinking problem? What exactly was her personal relationship with Detective Martino?

This was the question that bothered Myka the most. For God’s sake, it was 2120, and they still thought woman and men couldn’t be professional, couldn’t have platonic relationships. Myka was close friends with Sam’s wife; even if she _had_ been interested in Sam in that way, she could never hurt Allison like that.

They didn’t believe her, but they allowed her to go home.

A month passed, the investigation on Myka and Sam’s death was inconclusive. Myka seemed to be the only one present near the approximant time of death, but they didn’t have the evidence to pin it on her. All they had was the firm belief that Detectives Bering and Martino had a romantic affair.

Detective Bering should have expected what was coming when Captain Dickenson called her into his office. She had thought, hoped perhaps, that the investigation into her was closed and she could stop being a desk jockey. Instead, Dickenson told her to pack up her things, leave her badge and gun, and leave with what little undamaged reputation she had left.

“And I suggest you leave town all together Det- _Miss_ Bering.” He huffed from behind his desk.

So Myka cleared her desk, leaving only her shield and gun, and kept her head high as she walked through a sea of accusatory whispers.

_“I heard they were sleeping together…”_

_“She hired someone to kill him when he wouldn’t leave his wife…”_

_“Are you kidding me? The bitch probably pulled the trigger herself…”_

_“How’d she get away with it?”_

_“Maybe she’s in with the Manifestus…”_

Myka let the gossip bounce off of her as she continued to her personal car. She sat there, in the parking lot, staring out the windshield, wondering what she was supposed to do now.

She didn’t feel like returning to the empty apartment she could no longer afford. She didn’t have any friends she could call, and she would die before she called her mother or sister. She could hear the I-told-you-sos now. Her father had been right all along, she couldn’t make it as a homicide detective in Denver. Her mother would tell her she should have settled down with a nice boy already. Her sister would only remind her that she was the black sheep of the family.

What were you even supposed to do when you lost your job? And what about when you lost your friend? She still hadn’t found a way to cope with that over the last four weeks. She didn’t know what to do, but a bar seemed like a good place to start.

She hated the song playing when she arrived at the club on the other side of town. Her usual dive was a cop bar, and there was no way she could be seen in one now. She ignored the sound she could hardly call music as she sat on a stool and ordered her first shot of whiskey. It seemed the only music this place had was newer, upbeat, party music. It wasn’t fitting her mood, and that annoyed her, so she took another shot.

She looked at the crowd surrounding her. Most of the patrons were her age or younger, but she still stuck out like a sore thumb in her pant suit. She removed her jacket, undid her top buttons, and that helped her blend a bit. Maybe, she thought, if she looked like she fit in with the happy crowd, she could pretend for a little while.

Myka grabbed a napkin, pulled a pen from the jacket she’d just removed and began writing, trying to come up with a plan. She lost count of how many shots she took and of how many napkins she crumpled and threw out, but the words were becoming more blurry than usual, so she gave up.

She spun around to face the crowd, watching the beautiful and young dance with reckless abandon. One more shot and she had enough courage to rise and join them. She didn’t know the song, and dancing wasn’t normally her strong suit, and she absolutely detested crowds, but right now she didn’t care.

She lost herself in the sea of sweaty gyrating bodies letting go, at least temporarily, of everything beyond this moment. The flashing lights made everything surreal, the pounding beats driving her movements. She didn’t care that strangers hands were running over her body, she returned the action to more than a few.

There was one girl in particular, the same age as Myka, perhaps a little younger, who caught her attention and held it firmly. Her eyes were a gold color that hand Myka wondering if it was genetics or enhancement. Her hair the auburn color that seemed too perfect to be natural, and Myka didn’t really care at the moment if it was, because it felt soft as silk when she tangled her hands in it. Her mouth tasted like champagne, not Myka’s favorite, but she knew she probably reeked of Jack Daniels.

Myka, who was usually the one in control of all her encounters, and had never before accepted a proposition from someone whose name she didn’t know, found herself nodding when the woman asked if she would like to go back to her place- it was just around the corner, after all.

Myka would meet her at the back door after she settled her tab with the bartender. Myka left her intended one night stand on the dance floor as she wound her way back to the bar. She was breathing heavily when she reached it, and ended up in the seat she had abandoned a couple hours prior.

“Can I get a check?” Myka slurred when the bartender came her way once more.

It was busy, and only seemed to be getting busier as Myka put her head in her hands for a moment. She took a deep breath and looked up when the bartender pushed a drink under her nose. She stared at him, drunkenly confused, “I didn’t order this.”

“It’s from down the bar.” He waved vaguely before walking away.

Myka looked down at it, questioning. She was already so far in, she figured one more drink couldn’t hurt. Besides, she was sobering up faster than she was okay with. She tilted the glass back, gulping down its icy contents.

Her nose wrinkled. She didn’t think anyone in her part of the country still ordered White Russians, and the bartender had gone a little heavy on the vodka, it was almost over powering.

That’s when Myka realized there was a pink sheet of paper stuck to the condensation in the bottom of the glass.

She plucked it off and held it between her hands, bringing it close to her face. The print was tiny, and there was a lot of it, as well as an official looking stamp embossed in the top right hand corner.

_Ms. Myka Ophelia Bering,_

_You have been selected to serve your country._

That was as much as she was able to read before the room started spinning.

She tried to stand, but her legs were tangled in the legs of the stool and she fell heavily to the floor, her head hitting the scuffed floor first, making her see stars.

Two strong hands hoisted her up and began to drag her out of the club. She struggled, tried to protest, but she was quickly losing consciousness.

The last thing she saw was an older blonde woman frowning down at her, shaking her head in a disappointed gesture Myka recognized well.

While mentally cursing the absurdly strong man folding her into a waiting car, Myka didn’t realize her kidnappers had actually saved her from her would be murderer. Sure, the woman would have made it look like a suicide, but no one would have read too much into it. Myka didn’t have friends, no close family, the people in her apartment building didn’t even know her name. Myka Bering was alone in a city filled with pissed off people she had made enemies with.

While she was sure she was about to die, Myka’s life had actually been saved, for the time being that is.


	3. M.A.R.L.E.

The smell of ammonium burned her sinuses, rousing Myka from her alcohol and concussion induced slumber. Her mouth was dry as the Sahara and tasted of death, her tongue feeling useless, thick sandpaper. Her head was pounding before she even peeled back her eyelids, the light assaulting her eyes. Myka sat up slowly, the action causing her stomach to turn violently.

Myka was aware almost immediately that she was not in her bedroom. She sat on a twin sized bed, made of metal and set close to the ground. The floor was cold linoleum beneath her feet, waxed to a pristine shine. The white walls were glaring under the buzzing florescent lights. Myka squinted as she took in her surroundings, vaguely wondering why she wasn’t panicking yet.

There was a desk, a low dresser, empty shelves and two doorways, one of which was an empty frame that lead to a small bathroom. Myka rushed there now on legs that felt like over-cooked pasta. She bent over the toilet, vomiting until most of the nausea subsided.

She turned on the sink, tilting her chin beneath it and drinking deeply from it until she could feel the water slosh around her empty stomach. She put her weight on the edge of the sink, glaring her ragged reflection in the small mirror.

_What the hell happened last night?_

She never had a problem with her memories before, but now the pathway of her own mind was hazy. She’d left the precinct, drove across town to the club, had a few drinks, danced a bit, tried to pick up on someone but then it all went blank from there. Clearly she’d had far too much to drink, and she hadn’t gotten lucky last night, She wasn’t all together sure that this wasn’t the drunk tank at another police station.

“Good morning, Miss Bering!” a cheery voice echoed around her.

Myka spun around, searching for the voice’s owner, “Who’s there?” she demanded when she found no other person in the small room.

“Hello, I am MARLE,” Myka followed the sound to a small speaker on the wall.

“Marley?” Myka questioned, “Who are you?”

“Monitor, assess, report, learn, evaluate,” the voice explained, “MARLE. I am your artificial intelligence, and those are my primary directives.”

“Someone should tell your programmer that isn’t how you spell Marley.” Myka pinched the bridge of her nose as her migraine flared white hot.

“If that is the case, it stands to reason that somebody should have informed your parents that it is spelled M-I-C-A-H.” MARLE retorted.

 _Great,_ Myka sighed to herself, _They gave me the sarcastic robot._

 “MARLE, where am I?” Myka asked aloud, glancing at her surroundings once again.

“I am sorry, Miss Bering,” the voice truly did sound contrite, “That information is classified.”

“I’m not under arrest or anything, am I?” Myka sat back down on the bed, she wouldn’t put it past her captain to have another department arrest her on bogus charges.

“No, Miss Bering,” MARLE assured her, “You are not under arrest.”

“Well then, what am I doing here? _Why_ am I here?” She lay back and covered her eyes with her arm, wishing it were dark in the room, then perhaps her head ache would subside.

“You are currently in a facility that will test your strengths and weaknesses to see how well you can perform the duties expected of a Warehouse Agent.” MARLE explained.

“A _Warehouse_ Agent?” Myka looked up at the ceiling, knowing the AI was monitoring her somehow, “You’re yanking my chain right?”

“I do not understand your question.” MARLE complained.

“It means you’re lying to me.” Myka sat back up, crossing her arms over her chest.

“It goes against my programming to lie to you, Miss Bering,” MARLE stated, sounding confused, “It would be highly illogical for me to do so.”

“I can’t be,” Myka laughed shook her head, “There is no way that _I_ could ever be a _Warehouse_ Agent.”

“After you complete a series of tests and tasks, you may be sworn into duty as a fully-fledged Warehouse Agent with all the rights and responsibilities as such.” Her statement sounded almost like an argument, and Myka wondered how much money was spent to make this AI have a full personality.

“That’s ridiculous, don’t you even know who I am?” Myka shouted as she hit her own chest, immediately regretting it when the jostling causing her head ache to worsen.

“You are Myka Ophelia Bering. Born October 23, 2090. Daughter of Warren and Jeannie Bering. One sibling, sister, younger, Tracy Bering. Graduated from Jefferson High School in Colorado Springs, Colorado with a 4.2 grade point average in 2108. Attended Denver community college, majored in law, then history, then criminology. No degree was obtained. Graduated from the Denver POST academy in 2112 at the top of your class. Became a patrol officer in Colorado Springs. Transferred to Denver police department in 2116. Became a homicide detective in 2117. Removed from duty without honors in 2120.” She sounded bored as she listed these facts, as if she could have been reading off someone else’s grocery list.

 _Fantastic,_ Myka rolled her eyes, _Not only does my life apparently bore her, I’ve also begun calling a computer a “she” now._

“Thanks, MARLE,” Myka grumbled, “Remind me to teach you what a rhetorical question is later. But first, tell me why _I_ am here. I didn’t choose this. I don’t even know if this is something I want to do! I need to talk to someone.”

She walked to the closed door and tried the handle, panic setting in when if tailed to open under her hand.

“MARLE, why is the door locked?” Myka demanded, “Am I being held prisoner here?”

“Of course not, Miss Bering!” MARLE sounded taken aback, they sure did go all out when they created her, “I have informed Regent Lattimer of your request for her audience. The doors on all of the recruits rooms are kept locked until orientation so that they don’t get lost or into trouble before they are told the rules.”

“And when is orientation?” Myka put her hands on her hips.

“When every recruit has recovered from their sedative,” She said, “My systems check with the other AI’s reviled that you were the last recruit unconscious, so I released a small amount of ammonium carbonate to wake you.”

“Well my kidnappers didn’t think about what would happen if they mixed their sedative with vast amounts of whiskey.” Myka growled under her breath, “Had I known I would be abducted to join the government’s police force I may have reconsidered my night out.”

“An agent will be by to collect you shortly,” MARLE ignored Myka’s words, “Please put on the clothes provided for you and insert your temporary ear piece.”

“What?” Myka asked indignantly, looking down at herself and then at the dresser on the wall, “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Your clothing is not optimal for today’s schedule.” MARLE informed her, “I recommend comfortable clothing that is easy to move in as well as tennis shoes.”

“Why can’t I just wear my own clothes?” Myka didn’t budge from where she stood.

“Please, Miss Bering, it would be easier if you follow my advice. It is what I am here for.” MARLE stated, “If you want to pass the program you have to participate and follow the rules.”

“What if I don’t want to pass the program?” Myka challenged.

“I can tell when you are lying, Miss Bering.” MARLE claimed smugly.

Myka huffed, standing her ground for a moment longer before conceding with a sigh and the rolling of her eyes. Myka was unhappy about this so called recruitment process, but the idea of being a part of the elite force of law enforcement agents did thrill her, even if she did believe there was a mistake. If anything, it got her out of Denver.

“MARLE?” Myka called out as she pulled from the dresser work out pants, a light shirt and a jacket, “What’s today’s date?”

“Saturday, the 20th of January, 2120.” MARLE informed her.

“And how long is this program supposed to last?” She questioned, she didn’t like not knowing how long she was supposed to be there.

“Until every new recruit either passes or drops out.” MARLE said after a moment.

“And how many of us are there?” She asked, pulling the zipper up on her jacket.

“Ten recruits in total. Five field agents, two laboratory technicians, two crime scene investigators, one cyber-crimes agent.” The computer listed, “You are applying for the position of field agent.”

“Obviously,” Myka rolled her eyes. From what little Myka, or anyone for that matter, knew about the Warehouse, there were quite a few more positions that only those, and they were all in the eastern states, “Where will we be placed if we pass?”

“I cannot tell you that, it is classified.” MARLE apologized, “I do not have access at this time.”

There was a knock on the door and the sound of the electronic lock disengaging. As the door swung outward, the mass of a tall man in a suit filled the door frame. He had flat grey eyes and a stern face, “Recruit Bering,” He grumbled by way of greeting.

“Why does _he_ get to wear a suit while I look like I’m wearing pajamas?” Myka grumbled.

“Because he is an agent,” MARLE quipped, “Miss Bering, please, your ear piece.”

Myka lifted the small plastic device and inserted it into his ear. It made a clicking noise before anchoring itself into place, making it impossible for Myka to move it.

“Hey, what gives?” she huffed, futzing with it in her ear.

“You can remove your ear piece upon returning to your room.” MARLE’s voice now spoke directly into her ear.

“Oh great,” Myka sighed as she walked towards the door, “Now I get to look like I’m talking to myself.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that too much, Miss Bering.” MARLE chuckled.

The stoic agent motioned for Myka to walk in front of him. She noticed her room was one of many in a long hallway, and she wasn’t the only one being lead out of their room.

She was at the far end of the hall, so she could count nine agents, men and women, all in suits, all escorting their own charges.

“Will we be lead around like this for the whole program?”

She’d asked the agent, but he didn’t answer, so MARLE did instead, “No, this is only for assessment and orientation. After today, you will be expected to know your own way around the facility.”

The agents lead them to a large indoor track. The entire, long walk there, Myka hadn’t seen a single window. This made her think that perhaps they were in an underground facility. She tried to not let that make her feel claustrophobic.

The agents came to a halt, standing on the fringes of the large room while the ten recruits ventured forward a few feet, finally all able to get a good look at one another.

It was an even split, five women, five men. Myka sized them up each in turn, as they did as well. No one spoke for an extended time.

Myka became very aware that she was hung over, and probably looked as such. She comforted herself knowing that she couldn’t look as bad as the short red headed woman who stood a little apart, arms crossed, blood shot eyes darting between them.

“Hi,” the woman with dark skin and curly hair broke the silence when it appeared they were being left to their own devices for the time being, I’m Leena.”

The tallest among them, a man who looked like he spent most of his free time in the gym, but had a boyish face and a wide grin aimed at Leena, “Pete.” He greeted.

“I’m Rebecca, Rebecca St. Clair,” the taller red head offered, she seemed more interested in watching the rest of them.

“Jack.” He kept his arms crossed over his chest, him mouth set firmly.

“Abigale,” the woman with Asian features greeted, tilting her head and assessing her companions with quick glances that seemed to see through people.

“Todd,” the young man adjusted his glasses and ran an agitated hand through his hair.

“JD.” The tall, thin man smiled, revealing two rows of perfectly straight, white teeth.

“Steve” the blond with the buzz cut and serious demeanor nodded to them.

Myka realized they were now all looking to her and the other skittish woman, waiting for them to introduce themselves as well.

“Myka.”  The ex-detective spoke quickly.

“ _Me_ -ka?” Pete repeated back, tilting his head.

“ _My_ ka.” She repeated forcefully.

“Myka?” Pete made a face.

“Myka.” She nodded.

“Claudia.” The last of them greeted as she bit her thumb nail, her foot bouncing up and down, “What are we doing here?” she demanded.

“You didn’t tell them?” Myka asked MARLE.

“I’m not their AI,” she could imagine MARLE giving a shrug.

“Who are you talking to?” JD quircked an eyebrow, “Do you know why we’re here?”

“I’m talking to MARLE.” She pointed to her ear.

Pete made a swirling motion next to his temple as he gave Leena a goofy face. The other woman rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“I’m not crazy,” Myka insisted, “She’s the AI.” Myka tilted her head so they could see the ear piece.

“Oh! I thought he was called CHAD?” Steve tilted his head suddenly, not used to the voice in his ear yet, “Yes, _CHAD_.”

“No, it’s SARA.” Pete argued, pointing to his own ear.

“Miss Bering?” MARLE interrupted before they started fighting, “Perhaps I should have mentioned that each recruit was designed their own artificial intelligence.”

“That would have been nice to know.” Myka sighed before relaying that information.

“So, why are we here?” Claudia focused her sleep deprived gaze on Myka.

She saw fear there, and Myka had the urge to reassure, to protect. But that was crazy. She’d just met the girl, so she swallowed her feelings.

“You’re all here because I chose you.” Everyone’s head whipped around to watch the newcomer approach.

She was blonde, in her late fifties, wearing a blue suit and a no-nonsense face, taking long, confident strides.

“Hey!” Myka pointed at her, “You were at the bar! I _saw_ you!”

“Mom?” Pete’s jaw dropped.


	4. Recruited

“Mom?” Pete Blanched, “What are you doing here?” He seemed to be having trouble picking his jaw up from the floor.

“That’s your _mom_?” Jack demanded, glaring at Pete.

Myka looked between mother and son, searching for the family resemblance. It took a bit of searching, but finally she found it in the shape of some of their features. She found it odd, how two people could be related and have very little physically in common with each other, but strangers could look like siblings. All she had to do was look between JD and Claudia for evidence of that.

“Not here I’m not,” The older woman shook her head, “Here I am Regent Lattimer, and as recruits, you will address me as such.”

“Recruits for what exactly, _Regent Lattimer_.” Jack turned his suspicious gaze on her.

“Warehouse Agents,” She paced in front of them, “Each of you have been selected to go through the recruitment program, and if you pass, you will be sworn in as Warehouse Agents.”

“I’m sorry,” Claudia interrupted, holding her hands out for Regent Lattimer to stop talking, “You want _me_ to be a Warehouse Agent? Uh, are you fracking _high_?” she demanded.

The other recruits shot her sideways glances. Regents had enormous power in the new United States, and Regent Lattimer didn’t seem like she was the type of woman to tolerate insolence.

“No, Recruit Donovan, I assure you, I am not high,” She gave the young woman an icy stare that had everyone fidgeting, “Each of you were chosen for a reason, and only after extensive background checks. We know everything about each one of you. And we believe that each of you can add something to the Warehouse.”

“And if I don’t want to be a Warehouse Agent?” Claudia challenged.

“Donavan, if you chose to opt out of the program, which any of you can do from now until the end of the program, or if you do not pass, we will simply put you back wherever we found you.” Regent Lattimer quirked an eyebrow at her, “Some of you can look at this opportunity as a fresh start, others as an advancement in your careers. But at any moment, if you can no longer handle the trials you as recruits must face, then you can back out. We will be more than happy to return you to whatever life you were leading before this. Does anyone want to back out now?”

No one stepped forward, no one so much as made eye contact with the powerful woman, and Claudia Donovan finally learned to keep her mouth shut.

“Good,” the regent smirked, “The first thing each of you are to do is run a mile, then report to the dining hall. The agents who escorted you will show you the way.”

“Wait, _running_?” Todd groaned.

“Yes, Recruit Nolan,” Regent Lattimer turned her back to them, “Running.”

Myka shrugged and looked to Pete, who was watching his mom walk away, confusion still dominating his features. The others glanced to one another, seeing if they were really going to run the mile they were told to. Myka rolled her eyes before walking to the edge of the track. She pulled her hair back with the hairband from her wrist before she started her run.

Myka was hung over and feeling like shit, but she always kept up on her physical training. Partly because of her department’s regulations, but mostly because she never had anything better to do.

When she reached the peak of the curve on her first lap, she was joined by another pair of running feet.

“Mind if I pace myself with you?” Pete’s voice was still mostly even.

Myka shot him a look out of the corner of her eye and shrugged, “I don’t see why not.”

Pete smiled and faced forward, allowing them to fall in a comfortable silence.

Running together turned out to work in Myka’s favor. Myka was forced by pride to keep her speed up, she would be damned if she allowed Pete to run faster than her. She didn’t know the guy, but she was sure she would never live it down. On their final lap, their breathing was slightly labored, and Pete spun on his feet so he was running backwards, showing off and rising a challenging eyebrow.

Myka glared and picked up her speed, running past him and leaving him scrambling to catch up. Myka was laughing despite herself as it became a race to the finish. They lapped two of the recruits, dodging them and spinning to keep up speed. For the first time in a long time, Myka felt _good_.

They reached the end at the same time, though each insisted it was they who won.

“What’s our time?” Myka asked, tilting her head.

“Five minutes even, Miss Bering.” MARLE informed her.

“Huh, not bad Lattimer,” Myka smirked at him, hoping he couldn’t tell how close she was to throwing up chunks of her liver.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Pete waggled his finger at her before leaning forward with his hands on his knees, “That isn’t fair, I don’t even know your last name.”

Myka opened her mouth to tell them, but Pete spoke again, “What was that? Oh, _Bering_ ,” he smirked as he listened to SARA speak to him in his ear, finally seeing a use for it, “Wait, why does that sound familiar?”

Myka froze, her good mood doused. She knew she had been in the new in Colorado. _Denver Detective Dead! Partner Involved?_ She was hoping nobody here knew who she was.

“Common name, I guess.” Myka shrugged.

“Where did you serve?” Pete inclined his head, “Marine?”

“Nope.” Was all Myka said, she was saved from having to explain when Jack finished and took Pete’s attention.

“What about you, Secord?” He called, enjoying the fact that his AI was now automatically giving him the name of the recruits, “You a Marine?” he nodded to the tattoo visible on Jack’s forearm.

“Semper Fi,” Jack nodded, breathing heavily.

By some unspoken agreement, they sat at the edge of the track and waited for all of the recruits to finish their run Steve Jinks was the next, and was asked the same question. He was an Army Ranger in a previous life. Rebecca St. Clair was an Intelligence Officer in the Navy, and Myka was beginning to worry that she was the only one recruited without a military background.

That is, until Leena arrived shortly after Rebecca. She didn’t enlist in any branch of the military, and Myka felt better for a moment, until it became known that she was the holder of three separate degrees in Psychology, Criminology and Forensics.

And then it became about flaunting their schooling. Pete held credentials in Speech Pathology, Steve and Rebecca in Political Science, Jack in Law. When Abigale arrived, she put them to shame with her Doctorate in Psychology and a Masters in Criminology. Myka sank lower and lower, praying no one would ask her.

It was over a minute before JD finished, and Myka had convinced herself it couldn’t possibly get any worse for her. But the 20 year old had an IQ north of 160, Masters Degrees in Forensics and Criminology, Bachelor Degrees in Physics and Engineering. He had apparently graduated high school at 16 and went to work for the NSA.

When Claudia collapsed on the ground struggling to breathe, she informed them between gasps that the only degree she held was her GED. She didn’t tell them that she had earned her diploma while incarcerated at the juvenile hall.

Todd, stumbling in last at nine minutes, boasted a Masters Degree in Criminology and a background working with the FBI as a crime scene analyst.

Myka decided she would stick by Claudia, whose history was far less intimidating.

Once all of the recruits had caught their breath, the agents lead they down yet another long series of halls. Myka wondered how the hell they were supposed to be able to find their way around this monstrosity when every hall looked identical to the last. She counted hallways and turns then, counting on her eidetic memory to be useful here.

“Do you mind if I walk with you?”

Myka turned to find Claudia Donovan looking at her worriedly.

“Sure thing,” Myka tried to smile, but her approach caught her off guard.

“Sorry, you’re just, like, the most _normal_ seeming person here.” Claudia ran a hand through her short hair, “And that JD guy keeps giving me these weird looks. I think it’s because I ran my mouth and pissed off that Regent.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” Myka tried to reassure her, “And besides, no offence to _Regent Lattimer_ , but she seems like the type of person to be perpetually pissed off.”

“Right?” Claudia grinned, “And how did she expect us to react after being kidnapped. Isn’t the whole bag over the head thing a little too cliché?”

“You had a bag over your head?” Myka brought her eyebrows together.

“Yeah, it was really itchy, I hope it didn’t give me lice,” she scratched absently at the back of her head, “They didn’t put a bag over your head?”

“No, they just drugged me.” Myka sighed, “Not that I made it that difficult, I was a few drinks in by the time the regent found me in a club.”

“Right, she _just_ drugged you,” Claudia shook her head.

They finally reached the dining hall, looking a lot like a school cafeteria, Pete lead the way to the counter at the far end of the room.

“Thank God, I am starving!” he pat his stomach as he looked behind the counter for someone, “Hello?” he rapped the counter with his knuckles.

“Recruits,” one of the Warehouse Agents came around to the front of their small pack, “This is where you will pick up your meals three times a day. You will stand here,” he easily pushed Pete where he wanted him, “put your hand on this scanner,” He put Pete’s hand palm down on a small window of glass on the counter, “And you will retrieve your food, it is based on your calorie needs, factoring in your size, metabolism and the day’s activities.”

Pete’s tray rose from a panel in the counter, on it was bacon, eggs, oatmeal and sliced up melon. It looked delicious, but Pete made a face, “This is all we get until lunch? They’re gonna starve me to death.” He grumbled before turning on his heel and walking one of the dozens of empty tables in the large room.

They moved forward one by one, gathering their trays from whatever mysterious thing produced them. When it was Myka’s turn, she didn’t much pay attention to what it deemed appropriate to give her, she wasn’t really hungry.

She stalled with her tray of food, staring at the empty tables, shifting her weight back and forth. She was having some serious high school lunch room flashbacks. She was the dorky kid in the off brand clothes and thick glasses and an even thicker book. Pete, Steve, Jack and Rebecca, laughing loudly at their claimed table, were the cool kids who, on a good day, would ignore her existence completely.

Myka bit her lip and turned her body to an empty table in the corner, but before she could take a step in that direction, a voice called out her name.

“Hey, Bering!” Pete called from his seat.

Myka flinched inwardly before slowly turning, the awkward teenager that took up residence in her was expecting to be berated.

“Where you going?” Pete beckoned to her, “Come on, we don’t have cuties.”

“Well, Jack might,” Rebecca mumbled.

Steve snorted and Jacks lip twisted in distain.

Myka hesitated once more still uncertain, until Pete gave her an encouraging smile and waved her over. Myka’s heart was pounding in her ears and her dishes were shaking on her tray, but she steeled her nerves and walked to the table, sliding her tray beside Pete’s.

Claudia immediately sat next to Myka, and Todd found a spot across from the redhead, right next to Steve. JD sat on the other side of Rebecca, and Abigale across from her. Leena was the last to sit next to Claudia. And Myka realized that they all decided to sit together despite the many empty tables.

She was the only one giving it much thought as conversation continued around her. The recruits were trying to get to know each other better. If they were stuck together for the foreseeable future, if each of their success depended upon everyone elses, they might as well work on not being strangers.

Pete knew sign language and taught them different words, many of them not for polite company and made sure to tell them not to use it around the regent. It was impossible to lie to Steve, which they tested into the ground until even Jack conceded. Jack showed off his gunshot wound to his back, three centimeters from paralyzing him. They listened to Myka and Rebecca have a conversation in Russian, demanding a translation when the women dissolved into laughter. It was all fun until JD asked Claudia a question, forcing everyone to listen in since they sat so far from each other.

“Were you adopted?”  He asked without preamble, his head tilting, watching her reaction closely, clearly confused by something. He hadn’t eaten much of his food, just pushed it around on his plate. The only one who ate less than him was Myka, though you couldn’t tell because she pushed most of her food onto Pete’s plate when no one was looking.

“Nope,” Claudia tried to hide how much the question had bothered her, and JD seemed to relax for a moment, disappointment evident on his face, “I never had the pleasure.” Her laugh was full of mirth as she focused don her own tray.

“So you were in a foster home?” JD pushed and Myka shot him a glare, trying to get him to shut up.

“Try twelve,” Claudia grumbled before throwing her fork down, “And juvie was better than any of them. Why do you want to know, for?”

He opened his mouth, but his words were interrupted by the somewhat dramatic entrance of Regent Lattimer, flanked by three other confused looking people, two women and a man.

“Breakfast is over, recruits.” She announced, coming to a stop at the end of their table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so long, puppies are more work than i remember


	5. Rules and Regulations

“Recruits, I would like for you to meet your two supervisors as well as your lawyer.” Jane waved to the three newcomers, “This is Colonel Arthur Neilson, he will be the senior agent your report to should you pass the program.”

The bespectacled man with grey hair and seriously insane eyebrows had a frown that seemed to be permanently etched into his wizened face. He crossed his arms, which rested easily on his portly frame, as he grumbled under his breath.

“Doctor Vanessa Calder,” Regent Lattimer went on with her introductions as she gestured to the blonde woman with kind eyes and streaks of silver in her hair, “She is our lead coroner and she will head up the lab.”

Vanessa smiled warmly at the stressed looking recruits, remembering when she had been amongst them years ago.

“And Irene Fredric,” Myka noticed Leena shifting uncomfortably in her seat, avoiding eye contact with the sharply dressed woman now being presented to them, “She is our lawyer. For now, she is in charge of everything from warrants and contracts, to being your attorney and representing the Warehouse team as a whole in court.” The dark skinned woman also seemed incapable of smiling as she looked at each of the recruits in turn.

Myka had trouble reading her the most. She prided herself on being able to get a read on people, a necessary talent as a homicide detective, and she could start to understand the people facing her now. Colonel Nielson was giving the impression of a grumpy man who knew more than most, and had seen enough to lose faith in humanity, his cynicism the only thing left that he had to cling to. Doctor Calder was also clearly bright and had been around the block, but she had an open stance, welcoming the curious glances, but still held back from them. But Irene Fredric… that woman seemed to be mystery incarnate.

“With their help, you will be taught and tested until you are deemed capable to handle the responsibility of a Warehouse agent.” Myka watched as this information sunk in with her peers, as they realized the only thing standing between them and this chance of a lifetime were the tree stoic figures staring them down now.

“Before we get started, Agent Fredric will explain to you the rules you will abide by while you are in this facility.” She waved for the lawyer to step forward.

“First of all,” the counselor stated in a careful voice that was stern, “Though I am a fully credited agent of the Warehouse, you may call me Mrs. Fredric. It is my responsibility to make sure you understand what shall be expected of you as representatives of our agency.

“Here is what I expect from you,” Mrs. Fredric looked over the rim of her glasses at them, “First and foremost, there will be no fraternization.”

“No _what_?” Pete tilted his head, confused.

“She means no sex,” Myka rolled her eyes as she stage whispered it to him.

There was grumbling from a few recruits, but Mrs. Fredric ignored the sounds, choosing to move down her list of rules, “There will be no alcohol or drugs while you are here, not that you would have access to any in this facility any way.”

The recruits looked to one another and shrugged, accepting this rule a bit more easily than they would the next.

“There will be no caffeine consumption for the duration of this program by any recruits.”

“What?” Myka snapped her head up, and she wasn’t the only one, a small up roar began amongst the recruits, most of which were hardcore caffeine addicts.

“Enough!” Mrs. Fredric’s voice called easily over the grumbling recruits, “Where was I? Oh yes, there will be absolutely no hacking.” She shot a glare at the young redhead beside Myka, and the ex-detective got the impression that Claudia’d had a problem with computers before.

“While you are here, as far as you’re concerned, the outside world does not exist. There will be no phone calls, emails, messages, or news.” The lawyer continued to lay down the law, “You will follow the schedule up loaded to your AI’s every morning. I understand that living in close quarters with so many conflicting personalities is going to raise a few issues, but here me when I say, fighting outside of physical training with the colonel is forbidden. And last but not least, you will wear your ear piece connecting you to your AI at all times. Are there any questions?”

Whether she was clear or not, no recruit seemed willing to ask the woman any questions. Mrs. Fredric stepped back, nodding to the Regent.

“Alright, Recruits,” Jane nodded, “Today, we will assess where you stand, and what you must do to pass as a Warehouse agent. You’ve already done your first test, your mile times leave something to be desired. If it took you longer than six minutes to run your mile, you failed. Until you can get your time under six minutes, you will not pass the program. Here, everything is pass or fail. There is no grading scale, and if you fail one of your nine tests, you cannot go on, and neither can your peers, because you are a team, and if one of you fails, all of you fail.”

Myka saw the slower recruits blush and duck their heads slightly, and Myka felt like she was going to be sick. She didn’t doubt her own abilities, but she had never had much faith in other people, and now her future relied on the nine people around her.

Myka once again felt like she was back in high school, and the teacher had just given them a group project. Myka always ended up doing all of the work since she needed to get a good grade, but something told her it wasn’t going to be so easy this time. She couldn’t take the tests for her fellow recruits. And she really didn’t want to. If these were the people she would be working with when the danger was real, she sure as hell didn’t want them having got there because they cheated.

Colonel Neilson gathered the recruits for their second test, leading them to a large room that was filled with things Myka found familiar. It resembled the obstacle course that she had to run for the academy, only this one seemed to be designed to make her fail.

As if that were not bad enough, after the colonel told them they were to run the course as fast as they could, Neilson hit a button on the wall and the florescent lights went out, replaced by strobing black lights, an awful noise began to pour from the speakers, and rain poured from the ceiling, soaking Myka through in a few moments.

Myka could barely hear the tone that signaled for them to begin. She scrambled to the wall, jumping until she could grip the top of the wall, then using her feet to scramble over the top. She landed hard on the other side, but at least she was able to stay on her feet, which was more than a few others could say.

The rope she had to climb and swing from was more difficult than she expected, she could seem to get a grip on the rope, and she nearly fell, as Todd and JD did, into the mud pit that awaited them at the bottom.

She ended up covered in Mud regardless having to army crawl under the wire, her sweater catching and ripping twice. Jumping over hurdles, trying to keep herself up going through the freezing, slippery monkey bars, running over the giant teeter-totter, and a dozen other ridiculously challenging tasks left her a breathless, soaking mess as she lay on the floor at the course’s finish.

She was the third to finish, Jack and Pete having beat her by fifteen seconds and Rebecca and Leena ten seconds behind her.

Once the last of them, JD, had finished, Neilson turned the florescents back on, killing the simulated rain and sounds.

“That was pathetic,” he grumbled as he looked down at his tablet, “In order to pass the obstacle course you had to finish under eight minutes. Lattimer, Secord, Bering, St. Clair, Fredric, Jinks, you all passed, though there was room for improvement on all of your parts. And as for you four,” he looked to the remaining recruits, whose names he did not call, and he simply shook his head before turning.

The recruits scrambled to follow him to the next room, Myka’s shoes made a squishing noise with each step, and she was incredibly relieved when Neilson led them to the locker rooms, the boys and girls separating to change into dry clothes. Each of them found their name on a locker door and more gym clothes inside.

After having shed their ruined clothes, the senior agent lead them to a room Myka was extremely familiar with, and she found herself smiling, feeling more at home.

At the main door, Neilson handed each of them a pair of safety glasses, ear wear, and an unloaded nine millimeter hand gun. Myka felt its weight and sighed, feeling like she had been given a missing limb back. The colonel directed each of them into a room, explaining this was to test their accuracy and speed with a weapon.

Myka rolled her shoulders once alone in her chamber, taking a breath as her hands worked with the gun, loading the magazine and putting a round in the chamber, eyes glued to the clock counting down from ten. When the numbers reached zero, targets began appearing. It was faster than the training chamber at her old precinct, but that hardly phased her, and when the simulation was over, Myka found herself slightly dejected.

The recruits each exited their rooms, returning their gear to a waiting agent before stranding in an anxious group, waiting for Nielson to return with their test results.

The old man was grumbling, his frown deepening as he read over the scores.

“Fredric,” He held out the first paper, “50 accuracy, 20 speed, what’s the problem Fredric? Why the hesitation?”

Leena blushed, but shrugged as she accepted her test results, “I’ve never been comfortable with guns.”

“Get comfortable,” Neilson ordered, but his eyes were soft, holding none of the harshness of the command, “Nolan!” he barked for the next recruit, “35 accuracy, 35 speed. Work on it, Nolan.” He growled as he handed Todd his results.

Myka waited anxiously for her own results to be called, watching the senior agent tear down her peers as he worked through the list.

“Bering,” Arthur’s lips twitched oddly as he held out her paper, not commenting at all.

Myka was afraid to look at it, but the suspense was killing her, “45 50?” she read it twice looking up at Nielson. She was five points short of perfect, her speed getting her in the end, and if she wasn’t mistaken, the colonel almost looked proud now.

“Fredric, Nolan, Ashmore, Donovan, St. Clair, you five need to improve until your collective score is at least 90. Remember, shoot like your life depends on it. You shoot to stop the threat, and you do not hesitate, because I promise you, the bad guys are not going to hesitate to shoot you.”

The next room was set up with weights- machines and free weights. The recruits had to be able to lift two thirds of their body weight. Though a few of them struggled with it, the only ones unable to lift their share was Claudia, Todd and JD.

Their final task before breaking for lunch was sparing. They were paired off with agents and told to floor their opponents. No one was surprised when Myka and Pete finished relatively quickly, but when Claudia had the agent twice her size on the floor under her foot, the recruits erupted into a surprised bout of applause. Leena, Abigale, Todd and Joshua, struggled, but in the end, the agents knocked them flat on their backs before they could get the upper hand.

They were all sore and starving as they lined up in the dining hall once again. They all talked adamantly, trying to figure out how to help their whole group pass Nielson’s impossible standards. Myka was surprised there was no animosity from those who didn’t pass towards those who did, only concern about how to improve.

When Doctor Calder arrived to take them for their next round of assessment, it was far too soon for the exhausted recruits, but they went easily enough, glad that it seemed like their physical testing was over.

She led them to what looked like a class room but with comfortable chairs, wide desks. Each recruit grabbed a seat, Myka followed old habits and grabbed a desk at the front.

“This first test will seem familiar to some of you,” Doctor Calder admitted, “However, I think you’ll find that the Warehouse’s standards are a bit higher than the American Military.” She sighed as she passed out booklets and scantrons with number two pencils.

“The ASVAB?” Pete groaned, “I take it my old scores aren’t to par, huh?” she scoffed.

“No, Peter,” Vanessa shook her head before addressing the whole group, “You will answer every question, and when you are finished, you will step out to the next room where your next test will be waiting.

The test was easier than Myka expected, and she was the second recruit to finish, only seconds behind Claudia Donovan.

“How do you think you did?” Myka asked when they met in the hall way.

Claudia shrugged, “It was pretty easy actually. Most of it was pretty much common sense.”

Myka nodded her agreement as they walked into the next classroom, identical to the last, and she went to the same desk. The booklet handed to her by a stoic agent was even thicker than the last and she sighed heavily as she sat down with her scantron and pencil. She was half tempted to fill in random bubbles, her exhaustion weighing heavily on her head, but she resisted. The challenge the test provided her was refreshing. She’d always liked school, and she would have loved to go to college after she graduated, but her parents could only afford to send one of their daughters to college, and Myka wasn’t their choice.

By the time Myka was finished with the mind numbing test, all of the other recruits had already begun. Once again she was one of the first to finish, Claudia and JD the only ones done before she was.

The third classroom she was directed to was different. Each desk had a computer screen in the middle. The agent in charge of babysitting them instructed her that it was a facial recognition test. A picture would flash for a fourth of a second, and Myka had to pick which emotion was shone on the face of the individual. That was interesting and fun for her, if a bit simple. She found herself wishing the pictures would flash faster to give her a little more of a challenge.

The last classroom she was sent to, she was handed a case folder much like the ones she went through daily at her old job and told to write a report on the findings of the investigation contained in the manila folder.

Myka sighed, not in a tired way, more in a relieved way. Paper work was an integral part of her job as a detective, one she actually found quite relaxing, and she was turning in her report and case folder before anyone else.

She figured it was close to dinner, but MARLE told her she had about an hour, so she returned to her room, finding it easier than she thought possible. And she collapsed onto the twin sized bed that was more comfortable than she remembered. She found herself falling asleep easily. But nightmares of Sam being killed haunted her, and she was incredibly relieved when MARLE woke her for dinner.

The conversation at the table was not as boisterous as it had been that morning, all of the recruits bowing under their exhaustion. However, much to Myka’s surprise, the recruits still talked with familiarity to one another, as if they had been together weeks or months rather than hours.

Myka watched with suspicion as JD pulled Claudia to the side, and she found herself rising, her protective nature forcing her onto tired feet as she followed them.

JD sighed when he saw that Myka wasn’t going to leave him alone with Claudia, “I just need to talk to her about something, Bering, something personal.”

“Whatever you have to say to me you can say in front of Myka,” Claudia crossed her arms stubbornly.

“Fine!” JD ran a hand through his dark auburn hair, huffing, “I’m- I’m your brother.”

Claudia scoffed, “Bull shit, no, no” she shook her head, but Myka could see the realization slowly dawning on her face as it paled, and the ex-detective found herself preparing to catch Claudia should she pass out, “Joshua?” her voice sounded like the eight year old girl who had been separated from her twin brother by child services the day her parents and older sister had been killed.

Joshua nodded, his cheeks pinpricked in red, “Yeah, _JD_ , Joshua Donovan.”

“Didn’t they call you Ashmore?” Myka interjected when it seemed Claudia had lost the ability to speak.

“Yeah, that’s my adopted name,” Joshua nodded, “My mom and dad let me change middle name to Donovan so I could hold on to my old family, too.”

“I need,” Claudia shook her head as she took a step back, “I need to go sit down.”

“Claud,” Joshua reached out for his sister, but Claudia lifted her hands up and stepped back again.

She had lost her family 12 years ago, she never expected, never even let herself hope, that she would get any part of that back, she needed a moment to process, and Myka could see that, so she moved to stand between the twins, allowing Claudia the space she needed to return to the lunch table.

“Look,” Myka sighed, “I don’t really know either of you, but I can tell that she’s going to need a bit to process this, so why don’t you give her some space?”

Joshua nodded before returning to his own seat. Neither of the siblings refound their appetite after the revelation.

When Regent Lattimer returned to the dining hall, it was a relief, cutting the tension that now hung heavily over the recruits.

“Alright, Recruits.” She nodded at the need of their table, “There is no real structure for you to follow. You can train as you please, and you can redo any test whenever you want as often as you want until you pass. The only requirement is that you wake up at six and be at all meal times with lights out at eleven.

“As it stands, the only recruit to pass every test was,” she looked down at the tablet in her hands scrolling with her finger, “Recruit Bering.”

Myka blushed as she felt every eye turn on her, and she found herself wishing that a hole would open up in the ground and swallow her whole.

“I suggest you all work together, and especially ask Bering how to write a decent report so that you can all pass the program as well as she has.”

Myka suddenly felt like she had a target on her back, and it took all her strength not to bolt back to her room to vomit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be updating again for about a week or two, i want to finish up Library of Crazy first so that i can give both projects my full attention


	6. Rules Were Made to be Broken

“Come on!” Myka turned so she was still running, only know it was backwards so she was facing the four woman following her, “Let’s go, you’ll never break six minutes if you don’t _move faster!_ ”

“You… don’t… have… to… be… such… a… Drill Sargent… Mykes…” Claudia huffed, nearly tripping from the effort to speak as they ran.

“You asked for my help,” Myka reminded her as Abigale and Leena moved to run on either side of the youngest female recruit.

“I didn’t think you would make me get up at five to run with you _every morning._ ” The panting red head stopped in the middle of the track, her hands on her knees, working to pull in a deep breath.

“If you wanted to sleep in, you can always ask Pete to help you train.” Myka shrugged as she ran back to Claudia’s side.

Claudia’s face paled as she looked up at Myka, her eyes full of panic. It was no secret that Pete, with the help of Jack and Steve, was trying to get Joshua and Todd’s mile times down. And while he acted like an over grown child on a sugar high most of the time, he was working Joshua and Pete into the ground while they helped him with his academic short comings.

Myka had been shocked she’d actually been asked for help. And not just by Claudia for running, but by Rebecca for her speed in the obstacle course, and Leena and Claudia in the gun range, and everyone needed help with report writing. Most surprising was the three military veterans asking for her help retaking the ASVAB.

She had expected to put everyone off with her over achieving tendencies, instead it seemed to help her with making friends. And having friends was an all together new experience for her she found she quite liked.

“Come on, Mykes,” Rebecca bumped shoulders with her, “We’ve pushed her enough for one day. Besides, I want a rematch for yesterday, cheater.” She gave a wink before taking off down the track.

“Now who’s the cheater?” Myka yelled after her as she resumed running.

“I guess we know who the field agents will be,” Leena rolled her eyes as she rubbed soothing circles on Claudia’s back and Abigale checked their time.

Over the last two weeks, as the recruits got to know each other more than they ever wanted to, cliques had begun to form. They all got along together pretty well, despite the hot headedness of some and stubbornness of others, they had been surviving surprisingly well together. But friendships and alliances were definitely forming.

Living in the facility had become like living in a bad, day-time-television soap opera.

Myka and Pete bickered like siblings, though they wouldn’t allow anyone but themselves bring heat on each other. And Claudia seemed to have been adopted by those two as the surrogate younger sister they were both missing. Which was fine with the red head, who still was comfortable to be left alone in a room with her long lost twin brother who moped around most days like a kicked puppy. She was glad for the interest that Myka and Pete had taken in her, but Claudia had become fast friends with Steve, who had grown a soft spot under his hard, stoic exterior. The two were almost inseparable most days.

Rebecca and Myka sought out one another most days, without realizing it, needing to complain or talk about _something_ and not really trusting anyone else. It came to the point where each woman simply knew too much about the other, and it felt like they had been friends for years rather than 16 days. Most of Rebecca’s complaints were about Jack, who was an ass by all accounts, but Myka thought her friend spoke of the marine far too much to hate him as much as she was letting on.

Jack and Pete were toxic together. They were so similar to each other, but rather than make them close to one another, it made them almost hate each other. They competed in everything they did, and the testosterone battle led to a couple of shoving matches more than once. It seemed like the only person who could stand to be in the room with Jack for any length of time was Joshua. And they made such an odd duo, brains and brawn.

Todd and Abigale had become close simply because each of them had similar back grounds in education and ability. They had a very comfortable friendship, and unlike Jack and Pete, they seemed to bring out the best in each other. Leena was the only one that everyone got along with all the time. She had a way about her that made her fit in just about anywhere she wanted to.

But the recruits were already beginning to grow restless being trapped in the underground facility twenty four hours a day.

“Coffee,” Myka admitted as she sat heavily in the reading chair she bugged one of the agents to bring into her room, “That’s what I miss the most.” It had been another long day trying to get everyone field ready, and it was slow going with so many conflicting personalities.

“Really?” Rebecca laughed, “Out of everything they’ve taken away from us, like I don’t know, _sunshine_ , you pick coffee?”

“Okay, Miss I’m so perfect I don’t even have a caffeine addiction,” Myka rolled her eyes as Rebecca moved to sit on Myka’s bed with her back to the wall, “What do you miss the most? And if you say sunshine, I will hurt you.”

“I don’t know,” Rebecca tried to look distracted as she picked up one of the dozens of books Myka had lying around the room, “I think I’m doing okay.”

Myka squinted at the light blush that spread from the other woman’s neck to her cheeks. But before she could open her mouth a demand that she share, the door to Myka’s room flung open and Pete came shuffling in, falling dramatically on the bed, face down.

Myka and Rebecca exchanged a look as Pete sighed heavily before rolling over.

“Did you need something, Pete?” Myka smirked at him.

“It has been over two weeks,” Pete pointed out, “And no one besides you is nowhere near ready to leave yet”

“Your point being?” she pushed.

“Mykes, I _need_ sex,” He groaned as he sat up.

“Okay, well that’s my cue to leave,” Rebecca chuckled as she slid to the edge of the bed.

“No! You stay.” Myka pointed at her, “And Pete, please, I am flattered, but you are not my type.” Myka crossed her arms as she sat back in her chair.

“I wasn’t offering you… hey, hey, hey, wait a minute! What do you mean I’m not your type? I’m _everyone_ ’s type!” He complained indignantly, an offended look plastered on his face.

“Don’t take it so personally,” Myka rolled her eyes.

“How am I _not_ supposed to take it personally,” Pete demanded, “What are you gonna say next, ‘It’s not you, it’s me’? Because that’s _my_ line.”

“No,” Myka tilted her head, “It is kinda you.” She laughed, “Sorry Pete, at this point, sleeping with you would be like sleeping with my brother.” She made a face that Pete mimicked.

“Touché.” He caved, “But this ban on sex Fredric put out is killing me.”

“Oh? And just who would you sleep with?” Myka laughed.

“Don’t look at me, you’re not my type either.” Rebecca laughed as she lifted her hands.

“You both have something seriously wrong with you.” Pete glared at them in turn, causing both women to laugh in response.

“ _Maybe_ , he’s got a point.” Rebecca got a strange look in her eye.

Myka laughed for a moment before she noticed it, “What, you’re serious?”

“Just here me out,” she began, but abruptly cut herself off, looking around her. She stood up and carefully walked towards Myka.

“What are you?” Myka started, but a slight shake of the head from Rebecca stopped her.

The redhead, took her hair out of the pins keeping it up so it fell in an auburn curtain around her face. Pete’s jaw dropped as Rebecca leaned into Myka, her left hand encircling Myka’s right wrist, keeping it pinned to the arm of the chair as she used her right to seemingly brush Myka’s hair behind her ear before leaning in. Pete thought for sure the two women were going to start making out in front of him, and he was feeling really conflicted about that. But instead, Rebecca’s cheek brushed past Myka’s as she leaned in and whispered into the newly uncovered ear. Her breath tickled the back on Myka’s neck and her lips brushed Myka’s ear, causing her to shiver, but she had to listen carefully to the words Rebecca was saying.

It wasn’t until Rebecca straightened herself and strode out of Myka’s room without a backwards glance that the silence was broken.

“Dude,” Pete chuckled, “What the hell?”

Myka looked from the door to the wide smile on Pete’s face. She shook her head free of the fog that washed over here before giving a wary glance at the camera in the corner behind her. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, giving Pete a serious look.

Angling her face away from the surveillance, Myka made a point to take out her ear piece so Pete could see what she was doing before she began talking. Well, not exactly talking, her lips were moving, but no sounds were coming out.

Pete squinted at her, so she repeated the five word sentence again, and again, until realization dawned on his face.

“It’s getting late,” he groaned, stretching his hands over his head before standing, “I think I have a few minutes to make it back before lights out. Wouldn’t want to trip over my own two feet going to my room.”

“That would be embarrassing.” Myka nodded to him without getting up. She wasn’t really paying attention to what he was saying, and she waited for him to turn look at her once more under the pretense of bidding her a good night.

She tapped her forefinger and her thumb together once, twice then paused before repeating the motion. Pete’s nod was so small, Myka almost missed it, “Good night Mykes, see you on the track tomorrow?”

“I’ll be there, I think it would be good if we all ran together tomorrow,” she paused for a moment, “You’ll let Todd and Josh know? I’ll make sure Jack, Abby and Claud show up.”

“Becks is gonna wake Jinks and Leena when it’s time?” Pete tilted his head.

“I’m sure she’ll let them know.” Myka nodded.

“Alright, I’ll be sing you, Mykes.” Pete smiled before closing the door.

Myka made a show of getting herself ready for bed then. Brushing her teeth methodically, showering slowly. She made it back to her twin sized bed just as the lights shut off all around the compound. The only source of lights now were the emergency blue lights every fifty feet in the halls.

“ _Good night Ms. Bering,”_ MARLE chimed.

“Good night, Marls,” Myka yawned, “Power down for updates until six hundred.”

“Sure thing.” The computer agreed before disappearing for the night.

 She tapped her fingers on the wall that she shared with the room next to her. She tried to make it seem random, but still so the woman next door could here. She repeated the message twice, hoping she was listening. Then Myka lay in complete silence, staring in the general direction of the door. She counted her heart beats.

_One… Two… Three… Four…_

She let fear have the first sixty.

_Sixty- two… Sixty-three… Sixty-four… Sixty-five…_

She then began the process of talking herself up.

_Four hundred twelve… four hundred thirteen… four hundred fourteen… four hundred fifteen…_

Anxiety took over, and she had to work to keep her breathing and heart beats even.

_One thousand one hundred and eight… one thousand one hundred and nine… one thousand one hundred and ten…_

Now she was just bored, one thousand four hundred beats couldn’t come a moment too soon.

She slipped out from beneath the covers, pulling her shoes out from under the frame and her jacket from the back of the chair. She pulled an old Steinbeck novel from the shelf, putting it between the door and the threshold to keep if form closing behind her.

One of the perks of having lights out be so total, no one could see Myka. The down side, she couldn’t see Abigale as she ran straight into her.

They both clamped their hands over each other’s mouths to stop the surprised gasps they had let out. Myka could barely make out her features in the dim blue lights, but as soon as they made eye contact, they released each other.

“You understood me.” Myka’s voice was hardly louder than her breath.

Abigale rolled her eyes, though the expression went unseen, “Of course, It was basic Morse. You’re a little rusty though.”

“Did you tell Jack?” she ignored the jibe.

“Tell Jack what?” his voice came from behind Myka, causing both women to jump and bite back squeals of fear.

“You ass!” Myka hissed as she spun to smack him in the chest.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” Myka saw his teeth reflect the light as he smiled down at her.

“Let’s go,” Abigale pulled on Myka’s arm, “Before someone hears us.”

After only two weeks, Myka knew the halls like the back of her hand. She could have walked from her room to the indoor track blind folded. Which, she supposed, she was sort of doing now. Still, she took her time, and silently directed her two companions, so it took them five minutes to reach the empty cavern.

“Took you long enough!” Rebecca’s voice was louder than Myka expected, and she figured it was safe to talk at a normal volume.

Myka, Abigale and Jack’s rooms were the furthest from the field, and so they were the last to arrive, the other Seven stood waiting, huddled together talking lowly to one another. Steve was holding a flashlight to his chest so a little light escaped, not enough that they could all see very well, but enough for everyone to see one another when they stood in a tight circle in the middle of the AstroTurf field.

“What’s this about?” Steve asked, “If we get caught out of our rooms after lights out, they might kick us from the program.”

“Oh, come on Jinksy, live a little why dontcha?” Claudia clapped him on the shoulder.

“That’s actually what we’re here about,” Rebecca spoke up, “I know I’m not the only one who thinks all of these rules are ridiculous, right? I mean, no coffee, no news, no junk food-,”

“No sex,” Pete added in a grumble.

“Mustn’t forget the sex,” Myka rolled her eyes.

“We’ve been working our asses off, and I don’t know about you guys, but I’m one more scantron short of a mental break.” She huffed.

“I agree with St. Clair,” Jack smirked.

“Of _course_ you do.” Myka mumbled and was bumped in the shoulder by Rebecca as a silent plea to shut up.

“I think it’s time we had a little fun around here,” Jack continued on, “I mean, people in prison have it easier than us.”

“Okay, this is only going to work if we all have each other’s backs,” Rebecca cut in, “So it’s all or nothing. Who’s in?”

One by one each of the recruits looked to one another before nodding in turn.

“It’s settled then,” Myka smiled, “We’re gonna make this place bearable for however long we’re stuck here.”

“We’ll, since we’re all in this now,” Claudia shrugged, kicking her foot against the fake grass, “I think I could tell you now that I’ve been working on a code to hack the systems. I would have to do each AI individually, but,” she ended with a shrug.

“That’s fantastic!” Josh looked amazed at his twin sister, “How did you do it without being allowed to mess with the computers?”

Claudia looked at him for a second, trying to figure out if he was being sincere or not, “It’s still in my head, I need to gather up some supplies to create a driver that can hack the frequency. But once I get what I need, it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Great,” Myka cut off Josh before he could ask her anymore questions, “You keep working on that, let us know what you need. What else have we got?”

“Sex?” Pete perked up.

“You’re on your own for that,” Myka waved him off, but two others were having a silent conversation, and that’s what was holding most of Myka’s attention now, “What is it?”

Todd and Abigale looked up, guilty at being caught, “Well,” Abigale began, “It started out as sort of a joke.”

“We were talking about what would make being here easier,” Todd continued, “And I said I needed a stiff drink.”

“And then we went on about how easy it is to make alcohol from the sugars in the fruits they give us every day…” Abigale trailed off looking at her partner in crime for back up.

“It started as a joke, but we’ve been saving up the ingredients we need.” Todd admitted.

“Chemists.” Jack rolled his eyes.

“What else do you need?” Rebecca spoke over him.

 “That we can’t get ourselves?” They looked to each other before shrugging in unison, “Time.”

“What else are we missing out on?” The redhead went on.

“Caffeine,” Myka chimed in, she was desperate for a fix.

“Junk food.” Pete sighed, “Cookies, cake, I don’t care. I’m tired of all this healthy crap.”

“I can’t be the only one who’s curious about what’s going on in the outside world.” Steve gave them all a long suffering look, “For all we know, world war four could have broken out. We’ve been stuck in a hole for over two weeks, that hasn’t bothered _any_ one else?”

“I’ve been trying to ignore the claustrophobia, no windows or doors, walls closing in, feelings and you are ruining it!” Claudia accused.

“Well, I have it in good with a couple agents,” Leena offered, “I don’t know about getting the news, but I can see what I can do about getting out side food brought in.”

“Same here,” Pete piped up.

“Agent Clark seems to be warming up to me,” Myka added, “Maybe if we all started trying to get on the Agent’s good sides, they’ll help us out.”

“So it’s agreed then,” Rebecca declared, “We’re going to work together, have each others’ backs. Make this place a little less prison-y.”

No one seemed to have any objections, they all only nodded and began whispering to each other, figuring out what each person needed to get a hold of to help other people in the group. It wasn’t the first time Myka had seen the recruits rally together, but it still surprised her, gave her hope that they could actually all work together despite the fighting and disagreements.

An hour later as they began to walk back to the rooms, Pete strolled next to Myka in the dark, bumping her with his shoulder and smiling slyly.

“So when you say I’m not your type, what you really mean is-,”

“Drop it, Lattimer.” Myka growled threateningly, punching him in the arm.

“OW!” he rubbed his shoulder, but the smile remained on his face, “Geez, touchy, touchy.”


	7. Red Handed

 

Time began to pass so much easier for the recruits, they hardly noticed days falling away, and before they knew it weeks fell away. They had been at the facility for nearly two months, though they were mostly unaware of that fact.

Rather than slacking, now that they felt the thrill of the chance at being caught breaking rules coupled with the small comforts of home, the recruits worked twice as hard at completing the tasks that were left for them.

The circles beneath Claudia’s eyes that had been there longer than anyone knew slowly faded. Josh stopped skulking around the facility like a wounded dog. Rebecca was no longer losing hair on her pillow every morning. Steve no longer shot glances over his shoulder as he walked the hallways. Pete and Jack’s fighting had been kept to a minimum. Todd was eating normally once again. Abigale slept through the night. Leena no longer questioned whether or not she belonged there. And Myka no longer felt as if something was going to go wrong any minute.

And low and behold, the recruits began passing their tests without stressing as much as they had been over them. And a camaraderie developed between them as they adopted this view that it was them versus us when it came to the agents and the long absent Regent Lattimer.

Rebecca and Myka were practicing their closed quarter combat when things took a sharp left turn for the recruits.

By this point, everyone had passed their martial arts and grappling training, now they mostly used it to let off steam, such as the two women were doing now. They fought each other every day, asking different agents to show them new techniques, then practicing it on each other.

“You hit like a girl!” Myka taunted with a smile as she quickly stepped backwards, rubbing her jaw as she side stepped in time with her friend.

Rebecca snorted, “At least I can land a hit. Do you need to go grab your glasses, Specs?” She taunted in return.

It was the same routine they went through each day, exchanging playful jests with each hit to take the sting from the blows. Even though they tried to pull their punches and just go through the motions, that didn’t prevent them from hurting each other often.

Rebecca’s next hit landed with her full weight behind it, catching Myka between her ribs and hip. She pulled away with a gasp when Myka cried involuntarily out in pain.

“Ohmygosh,” Rebecca held her taped hands to her mouth, walking carefully to Myka’s doubled over form, “Are you okay? I expected you to-,”

She was unable to finish her sentence. Unfortunately for St. Clair, her concern for her friend lead to her being quickly thrown to her back. Myka had lunged forward when she was in range, her shoulder catching Rebecca in the stomach, and using her momentum to flip her over. Rebecca hit the ground hard, her breath knocked out of her. Myka used her knees to pin her hips down as her hands held her arms above her head.

“You bitch.” Rebecca glared at her, a look Myka returned until both women erupted in laughter.

Bering rose to her feet, pulling the other woman up with her, “That’s not my fault. Are you really going to stop in the middle of a fight to ask the other guy if he’s okay?”

“I guess not.” Rebecca allowed, before using her grip on Myka’s hand to pull the taller woman towards her, wrapping her leg behind Myka’s legs, and shoving her backwards.

Now it was Myka who lay staring up at the ceiling, blinking black spots away as Rebecca lay sprawled across her laughing, her weight keeping Myka pinned.

“Secord,” Pete put his arm out, stopping his own sparring partner from walking any further on to the practice mats, “Please tell me I’m not dreaming, and there really are two hot, half naked chicks rolling on the floor right now.”

Jack smirked, “The temperature in hell must have just dropped because, for once Lattimer, I’m with you.”

Myka and Rebecca looked up at the two new comers, wearing nothing but their gym shorts and twin devilish grins. “Hey guys.” The girls stood up, trying to fight back the smiles, not wanting the guys to think they didn’t take the hand to hand training seriously.

“Please, don’t stop on our account,” the blond ex-Marine took a few steps into the room,   
“Pete and I were just about to resume our own never ending sparring match. I think I have a chance at coming out on top, maybe you could give me a few pointers, eh Becks?”

Myka snorted and Rebecca shot her a death glare, before turning back to the smiling man suddenly standing too close to her, but she refused to back down, “Not that I don’t want to see two hot, sweaty guys fighting,” She mimicked the way Pete had sounded upon entering the room, “But I’ve got places to be, come on Myka.”

“Aw come on!” Pete complained jokingly.

“Sorry boys,” Myka winked as she followed Rebecca’s quickly retreating form, “We’ll kick your asses some other time.”

“She totally wants me.” Jack declared as one of the agents began to wrap his hands.

“Who Myka?” Pete scoffed, “Yeah right.”

“What? Why not Myka?” Jack turned to face him, not pointing out that it was the redhead he was talking about.

“If I’m not her type, you’re sure as hell not her type.” Pete shrugged.

“You think that just because you’ve gotten lucky a few times that every girl wants you, let me tell you Lattimer, did you stop to think that the women stuck down here are just as desperate as you and you just happen to be convenient for them?” Jack challenged.

Pete’s explanation about Myka’s questionable sexuality quickly fell away as his chest puffed out, “If you think I can’t get whoever I want, I’ll prove it. I bet you I can get St. Clair in my bunk begging for it by the end of the week.”

Jack’s face flushed in red, and Pete knew he hit the right nerve, “Oh? You’ve got a little crush on her, don’t you?”

“Shut up,” Jack snapped, “You shut the hell up.”

“What’s the matter Jack-y boy? Can’t step up to the plate?” Pete pressed on as the two men began to circle one another, “Don’t worry, buddy, I’ll take real good care of her.”

“Oh? While you’re busy with Becks, you won’t mind if I take a swing at Myka then?” Jack barked back, “I know you’ve had a thing for her since we’ve gotten here, and she continues to treat you like a brother. Have you seen the way she looks at me though? Not very brotherly at all. She could be fun for a little while…”

Pete lunged forward and Jack met him half way there.

It wasn’t the sparing that Rebecca and Myka had danced out moments before. There was no playful jabs, no one was pulling their punches. Weeks of small skirmishes, weeks of butting heads, weeks of each of them vying for dominance finally brought them to this moment, this breaking point where both men let go of the last restraints they were holding on to, keeping them from snapping.

It was violent and visceral, and it lasted only a few minutes before the two agents standing by pulled them off one another, trying to talk sense into the two men who were still seeing red.

Colonel Neilson made his appearance then, “Hey! That’s enough! Knock it off!” he shouted, shoving himself between the two struggling recruits, placing a hand on each of their chests, and though he was a head shorter than both of them, Pete and Jack’s military conditioning kicked in at the sight of a commanding officer and they straightened.

They were breathing heavily, still killing each other with looks, but sanity had returned to the situation and they no longer needed the agents to hold them apart.

“You children need to take this play ground brawl and squash it! This isn’t a daycare, this is a government training facility. You’re Marine’s for God’s sake! Start acting like it.” He took off his glasses, using the hem of his shirt to clean them as he gathered himself, “Just… go take a cold shower, and maybe take that time to figure out a way to take your heads out of your asses.”

“Yes, sir.” They both responded automatically before heading to the men’s lockeroom in silence.

“Keep an eye on them,” Arthur barked at the two agents, “And if you two can’t even keep the recruits off each other, maybe you’ll need to go through the program again yourselves.”

The agents took the verbal lashing without a word, but both imagined several scenarios that would leave them gratefully without the presence of the Colonel.

“This isn’t over, Secord,” Pete mumbled as they stood facing each other at their lockers, “You and me, we’re gonna have a rematch.”

 “You bet your privileged ass we are. And none of this agent’s interfering shit,” Jack huffed as he wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand, “You and me Lattimer, after lights out at the field. We’ll see who’s leaving here on a stretcher.”

Pete gave a bloody smile, making his usually goofy grin seem deranged, “Yeah, okay, Secord. And there won’t be anyone there to save you next time.”

“ _Save me_?” Jack scoffed, “You sure I didn’t knock something loose up there.” He tapped on Pete’s forehead, pulling his hand back before Pete could lunge at him, “I don’t know what fight you were in, but I was on the winning end back there.”

“I knew love could make you blind, they didn’t say anything about making you stupid too.” Pete smirked at him.

Jack took a threatening step toward Pete, who just put a hand on his shoulder and held him back, “Save your energy for tonight, Jack, you’ll need it.”

* * *

Claudia was in one of the class rooms, trying to get Steve to pass his SATs with a higher score when Josh walked in.

Too involved with the practice test on the table in front of them to notice his presence at first, the Caltech graduate slowly sidestepped his way to stand beside his agitated sister.

“Seriously, Jinksy? How did you get his far in life without getting through simple trigonometry?” she demanded, working hard not to pull her hair out at the roots.

“By joining the army as soon as I had my high school diploma in hand?” Steve tried, worried that his friend was quickly losing patience with him.

“Are you trying to be funny?” Claudia growled.

“No?” Steve shrunk back.

“Hey, Claud?” Josh came unknowingly came to Steve’s rescue, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Yeah, what is it Josh?” Claudia sighed as she faced her estranged twin.

“Jack is on the war path, and I thought I should warn you, since I know you’re friends with Pete…” Josh was torn between his friend and telling his sister something that seemed to eb a big deal.

“What’s wrong with Pete?” Claudia straightened from her slouch.

“It’s nothing really…” Josh tried to back pedal, still not having made up his mind.

“You’re lying.” Steve pointed out, suddenly very interested in this conversation.

“Just tell me what’s going on, Joshua.” Claudia demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Okay, okay,” Josh took a breath, looking around before lowering his voice, “Apparently something happened on the spar mats today, and Jack and Pete got into it. They’re planning on _finishing_ it _later_.” He tried to get her to understand without saying too much to the agents who were most likely listening in.

“The late mile?” She asked, referring to the times they met up after lights out on the track to hang out and exchange the different contraband they had gotten ahold of.

Josh nodded, eyes wide,

“What were they fighting about?” Steve asked, concerned for his friends.

Josh rolled his eyes and shrugged, a gesture that reminded the ex-Ranger of his new best friend, “Who knows, those two fight over everything. I think this was just an acclimation of every fight. Look, I’m friends with Jack, but I don’t think Pete’s necessarily a bad guy, I figured you guys could try to, I don’t know, if not talk sense into him, help him out?”

Claudia nodded, “Thanks Josh.”

* * *

The rumor mill worked quickly, not that difficult since there were only ten people in the loop. When Claudia went off to catch Myka up on the battle royal that was planned for the evening, Steve complained about it to Todd, who was in the midst of running his mile, saying the rumors had pulled his tutor away from him in the middle of the SAT’s practice test. He had been hoping to get Todd’s help, instead, Todd also went off to catch Abigale up, and to create a pool on who the winner would be, arriving just in time to watch her complete the obstacle course.

“Fuck it.” Steve threw his hands up and went back to the SATs classroom to retake the test for the second time.

Myka dropped what she was doing as soon as Claudia told her what the guys were planning, they quickly rushing off to tell Rebecca, knowing how she felt about Jack even if she herself wasn’t willing to admit it aloud.

They found them in the behavioral studies room, running through the program again and again. Myka waited until they were done with their current round before breaking the news.

“Are you kidding me?” Rebecca shot to her feet, causing Leena to glance worriedly at her aura, “They can’t be serious. Why are they doing this?”

Myka shrugged, “No one seems to know what it’s about this time. But I think we should be there to keep them from killing themselves. Or worse, get themselves caught and kicked out of the program.”

“Of course you would think that being kicked out would be worse than our friends killing each other!” Rebecca snapped as she began to pace back and forth.

“Well did you think that maybe they would bring us down with them?” Myka shot back, “I don’t know about you, but I don’t exactly have a good situation waiting for me back home. Not _everyone_ has a degree and military experience to fall back on!”

“If Pete would just stop acting like such a hormonal teenager, we wouldn’t even have this problem.” Rebecca muttered.

“Excuse me?” Myka grabbed Rebecca’s arm, pulling her to a stop and leveling a glare at her, “What makes you think this is Pete’s fault? Your boy wonder is the one with the anger management problems! But you’re too blinded by your feelings for him to see what we all see in him.”

“Oh please Myka, enough of the jealous girlfriend shit,” Rebecca yanked her arm out of Myka’s grasp, “I knew you had a little crush on me, but this is ridiculous.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, St. Clair.” Myka rolled her eyes, not letting the words hurt her, “My taste runs a bit higher than, well, _you_.”

Rebecca huffed in indignation, “I hope Jack kicks Pete’s ass.”

“Good thing you’re not attracted to Jack, right?” Myka tilted her head, “Since Pete’s going to be rearranging his face tonight.”

Myka and Rebecca were standing toe to toe each willing the other to back down first.

“Is there a problem in here?” a passing by agent asked as he stuck his head in.

“No,” the two facing off spoke simultaneously before turning on their heels and storming out different doors.

“What the hell just happened?” Claudia stage whispered to a stunned Leena.

“I have no clue,” Leena shook her head, “But if I had to guess, this fight just got a whole lot bigger and more complicated than before.”

* * *

There was a fissure that had split the group, becoming most obvious when the recruits sat down for the last meal of the day. For the first time since arriving, the recruits didn’t sit together at the same table.

Pete, Myka and Claudia sat at one end of the dining hall, Jack, Rebecca and Joshua at the other, with Steve, Abigale, Leena and Todd in the middle at the usual table. Agents took notice and tried to ask each of the recruits what was going on, but they clamed up, faking that everything was business as usual in the facility.

Claudia was focused on working on a device under the table to scramble that day’s AI recordings, knowing from recon that whoever was going through their AI data was at least 18 hours behind at all times. She didn’t want any of their superiors knowing everything that had gone down that day, and all that was about to happen that evening.

Myka was playing with her food, rather than eating it, the words that she had said and the ones that had been said to her finally taking root in her. She felt like shit for what she said in anger to Rebecca, and her chest hurt from the sharp words that had been flung at her. She had finally made friends, and now it was all going away because of one stupid fight.

Rebecca wasn’t feeling much different from Myka. She wished she could take back the things she had said, and wished that Myka’s own words hadn’t hurt as much as they did. While she was still largely angry, she sincerely hoped that they would all come out the other end of this and still manage to be friends like they had been.

Josh was trying to talk Jack down without sounding like he was taking sides, but Jack wasn’t hearing any of it. Jack and Pete were both stubborn, and their pride wouldn’t let them back down now, especially that everyone else knew about it.

Nineteen minutes after lights out, Myka drug her feet to the field. The seven others who weren’t planning on trading blows that evening had apparently had the same idea as her- to get there before Jack and Pete.

Her eyes found Rebecca, her heart still twisting from their earlier fight. When Rebecca glance up, she tilted her head, indicating that she wanted a word alone with her. They stepped off a few feet, leaving the others to speculate whether or not they too would be fighting.

“I’m sorry,” Rebecca twisted her hands nervously in front of her.

“I’m sorry, too,” Myka rubbed the back of her neck, her eyes looking everywhere except at her friend, “Look, I’m not good at the whole making friends thing, so I don’t have practice in the _keeping_ of friends either, but I know that I should explain myself. The whole attraction thing…”

“No, Myka, really,” Rebecca held her hands up, “I’m sorry I said that.”

“It’s not that I don’t find you attractive,” Myka went on, trying to get through this with as little embarrassment as possible, “God, I’ve never talked about this before out loud. Gender hasn’t ever played a big part for me in attraction. Any part at all really. Boy, girl, doesn’t matter, I like hot people, and that’s shallow, but it’s the truth. I just got really good at not letting myself fall for straight girls. So I want to be friends with you because I genuinely like you as a person, not because I’m carrying a torch for you.”

“You think I’m hot.” Rebecca smiled slyly.

“Really? That’s all you got from that?” Myka laughed, but she was glad that the conversation was going over more smoothly than she expected.

They laughed for a moment together before the sound of a commotion erupted behind them. Jack and Pete had arrived, and wasted no time in picking up where they left off. Myka and Rebecca rushed to them, pushing past the other recruits who were just standing by, watching and playing referee to the no holds bar match happening.

Myka wrapped her hands around Pete’s stomach, using her momentup and built up speed to knock him to the ground while Rebecca moved to where he had been standing, putting her hands on Jack’s shoulders and shoving him back.

“Get out of the way, Becks,” he growled trying to side step her, but Rebecca took his legs out from underneath him.

“Enough, that’s enough Jack, you have to stop!” she yelled at him while Myka was saying something similar to Pete, “Whatever it’s about, you have to stop before-,”

Blinding lights lit the stadium, the recruits tried to shield their eyes against them. By the time they recovered enough to think that perhaps they should scatter, it was too late. They were surrounded by dozens of frowning agents, lea by a stoic Jane Lattimer, a scowling Arthur Nielson, and Dr. Vanessa Calder, who seemed to be fighting a smile.

Myka helped Pete to his feet quickly as Rebecca pulled Jack up. The recruits quickly closed ranks around each other, ignoring all feuds as they were met with a common enemy.

“And just what the hell do you think you’re all doing?” Arthur demanded, knowing full well what was going on.

Jack and Pete looked at one another, “Practicing our mile times?” Jack offered and Pete had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out.

“Did you all think you could get away with everything you’ve been doing for the last six weeks and we wouldn’t know?” Vanessa shook her head at them, but she had to admit, she was impressed with what they did manage to get away with before they had been clued in by their actions that very day.

“I have half a mind to cut you all from the Warehouse program and send you all back to your ‘real’ lives.” Jane looked at each of them in turn, watching the panic and fear flash in some of their eyes for a split second before being covered up quickly with empty expressions, “You are all just luck that none of you are still recruits. As of today, the last of you passed the last of the tests required of Warehouse Agents.”

“Wait,” Myka spoke up, “You mean, we’re done? All of us?” She couldn’t imagine passing on without everyone in their group.

“Yes, _Agent_ Bering, for the first time ever, every recruit trained for a team has passed without a single one quitting.” She nodded, “Even more surprising, as you all broke the rules, and even fought, you had each other’s backs. You were able to put the grudges behind you when presented with a new threat, namely me. And being able to hide this from us for so long, to be able to conceal your feelings, proves to me you’re ready for the mission we’ve been assigned.”

“So, you’re saying…?” Steve fought a smile.

“Congratulations,” Vanessa nodded to them.

“You are all officially Warehouse Agents.” Jane finished for her.

A cheer went up among the newest Agents, even Jack and Pete seemed friendly with one another in that moment.

“Pack up, Agents,” Neilson barked over the commotion, “We’re leaving at zero six-hundred hours. We have a long trip ahead of us tomorrow.”

The agent’s ignored their senior agent’s order, instead, spending their last night in the facility on the field, burning through the last of their contraband. Laughing and celebrating their survival.

Jane, Vanessa and Arthur watched them from a distance.

“Are you sure about them?” Colonel Nielson frowned at how foolish they seemed.

Jane nodded, “I am. They are the best recruits I’ve seen in a long time, and more importantly, they make the best _team_ I’ve ever seen.”

“You haven’t even told us what the mission is, Jane,” Vanessa pointed out, “But I’m assuming you’ve been briefed. Do you think they- _we_ will be able to handle it with such a small team?”

Jane sighed, “We don’t have a choice. There is no plan B for this.”


	8. Welcome to the Warehosue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of my one year anniversary since discovering this show, I made sure to get an update out today that was a bit longer than usual. Enjoy.

Myka felt like death warmed over. Her tolerance for alcohol had seriously been diminished over the last month and a half. Despite all of this coupled with the pounding in her head and being awake far too early for her taste, Myka found herself excited.

They were done. There was no more training, no more tests. They were _done_.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” Myka asked her ever present AI as she gestured towards the half-filled cardboard boxes on the stripped twin bed. They held the clothes and books she had acquired since arriving, and she had become strangely attached to them.

“Another agent will be by for them shortly.” MARLE replied after checking the schedule, “They’ll be shipped to your new home.”

“And you still aren’t going to tell me where exactly that is?” Myka tried once more as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

“I can’t, Agent Bering,” MARLE mimicked a long suffering tone, “Today, after I receive my upgrade, I’ll have access to that information, but as of now, you know as much as I do.”

“What, Claudia’s upgrades weren’t good enough for you?” She joked as she retied her shoes for the fifth time.

“While Agent Donovan’s upgrades were against regulation, they were helpful. But they were mostly helpful for you and the other recruits so you could change your own schedules.” The AI sounded almost scolding as she spoke.

“Mykes!” Pete let himself into the room without knocking, “Are you ready to blow this Popsicle stand, or what?”

Myka shook her head at him as he bounced from one foot to the other. Pete was the only one of them who wouldn’t be suffering from a hangover. He was five years sober, and had no plans of relapsing to the person he had been before.

“Yeah, I’m coming.” She rolled her eyes and smiled before silently bidding her room farewell. She wouldn’t _miss_ it exactly, but it had still become comfortable for her. Familiar. And now she was giving it up for a more exciting life. It was harder to leave the small room than it had been to give up her nice apartment in Denver.

Pete skipped off to go bug Steve while Myka walked to Rebecca’s room. She found her sitting on the twin sized bed, her own boxes still empty. She had her thumbnail between her teeth, staring off into space with a concerned look plastered to her face.

Myka knocked softly on the threshold, “What are you doing Becks?”

“Huh?” she jerked her gaze up to Myka, looking guilty, “What are you talking about?”

“You haven’t packed anything yet,” she pointed to the empty boxes, “We’re supposed to meet Nielson in the dining hall in ten minutes and you haven’t packed up your stuff yet.”

Rebecca looked around the room, she had a few notebooks on the desk, clothes scattered carelessly about in some corners of the room, “Why would I want to bring any of this with me? None of it’s really mine. It was just for while we were here.”

“Why do I get the feeling that this whole gloomy attitude isn’t about the jeans and t shirts that are in your drawers?” Myka stepped into the room, carefully sitting herself on the bed beside her friend.

Rebecca refused eye contact, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Of course this is about the clothes that aren’t even mine, so why should I be able to take them with me?”

“Becks…” Myka ducked her head so Rebecca was forced to look at her.

“Can we not talk about this now, Myka?” she plead, looking at the door where the other new agents were walking past, laughing and walking towards the dining hall. When it was Jack who paused at Rebecca’s door way, she looked away, and Myka caught it.

“Hey, are you guys coming, or what?” Jack stuck his head in, looking only at Rebecca, a confused tilt to his head.

“Yeah, we’ll be right there.” Myka waved him away.

Jack shrugged and walked off.

Myka sighed, she stood up, “Okay, we won’t talk about it now, but you really do need to put some things in those boxes, and quickly. Otherwise you’ll have nothing to where when we get to our post.”

Myka took charge, emptying the drawers into the boxes, gathering the filled notebooks around the room and adding them to the untidy pile before shoving the flaps closed.

“Becks,” Myka turned back to her, she hadn’t moved an inch, and still was staring off into space, “Rebecca St. Clair,” She pulled her to her feet, “Come on, you can tell me all about what happened between you and Jack later, but for now, we’re running late.”

“Nothing happened between me and…” She stopped when she saw the skeptical look on her friend’s face, “Yeah all right, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But you will,” Myka pushed her from the room, “And when you do, I will listen and respond with all the proper reactions. But for now, you squash those feelings down so we can get out of here.”

“I think your vast sympathy is my favorite thing about you.” Rebecca mumbled as she allowed herself to be led down the hall.

Much as predicted, the rest of the newly christened agents were waiting for them as well as Regent Lattimer, and Agents Nielson, Calder and Fredric. It was then that it occurred to a few of the agents that the facility had felt far emptier than usual. There was no longer the odd suited agent walking around. All they saw before them now, was all that was left. The rest of the agents had returned to their normal duties, no longer needed here.

“Took you guys long enough.” Claudia groaned.

“Shall we?” Jane cut in before any sibling like bickering could ensue.

She walked to the wall behind the serving counter, pressing her hand to the side of one of the panels. There was a loud beep, and the panels pulled away to reveal a large elevator.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Jack scoffed, “There has been an elevator _right here_ the whole time?”

“Yes, Agent Secord,” Jane fought to hide a smile, “Hiding in plain sight has always been a favorite in our line of work.”

The agents all looked at one another before collectively shrugging at the strangeness of it all and filing on to the elevator, ending up with barely enough room for all fourteen adults. There was only one button, and the Regent pushed it in.

There was a jerk, signaling the beginnings of upward movement of the elevator. Minutes passed, and just when the panic of claustrophobia began to set in for a few agents, they came to a sudden stop.

“Where are we?” The agents’ eyes filled with equal parts bewilderment and wonder as the elevator doors slid open to reveal a large, open lobby of a government building.

Marble floors and high ceilings, the large windows letting in natural light. Wide coeloms interspaced equally around the circular room, duel wide stair cases leading to a balcony floor. It was decorated simplistically in a color scheme of black and white, and in the center of the room proudly stood a larger than life alabaster statue depicting Lady Justice. The only offer of relief form the harsh contrast was found here in the golden scales, the black blind fold, and the silver double edged sword.

Agents, dressed stereotypically in black suits and grim faces, hustled about, hurrying to get to their assignments, to check in on current cases and tie up any loose ends before handing them over to the lawyers. Regents wearing more casual, but still business like attire, walking at a more leisurely pace to their own offices.

“Welcome to Warehouse 1.” Irene smiled as she ushered the awestruck agents off the elevator.

“Are you kidding me?” Jack scoffed, “We’ve been beneath the Warehouse this whole time?”

“I am _so_ underdressed.” Pete grumbled and Myka had to agree with him.

They hadn’t been given much of a selection in their own wardrobe, and therefore were all dressed similarly- and rather plainly- in t-shirts, jeans, and tennis shoes.

“That’s rather the point,” Jane assured her son curtly without any further explanation, “Let’s go, we have a lot to do and a ticking clock baring down on us.”

“Where are we going?” Claudia piped up, unable to keep her eyes from darting around nervously as they trailed after their Regent.

“First things first, we must stop by legal.” She led them to the left set of stairs, waving to the rather large man behind the reception desk between the sets of steps.

The ornate stairs were merely for aesthetics, and lead only to the second floor. They took a side door hidden flight of stairs. Seven floors and dozens of ignored, mumbled complaints later, Jane announced that they had arrived.

“May I help you?” A young woman with platinum blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail asked from behind a desk. Her voice was pleasant, but the tilt of her head told the agents that their presence there confused her.

She was surprised, after all. There was nothing on the schedule that day for her bosses’ that would indicate a group of men and women should be expected. Not to mention they all filed out of the stairwell, a stricter used only for heating up different office romances as far as the assistant was concerned.

“Regent Kosan sent for us.” Jane assured the worried looking girl as she ushered the very out of place seeming group past her desk without signing in.

She opened her mouth to protest, but no sound came out. She didn’t recognize the ten individuals following the older agents, and from the stern look the Regent gave her when caught gawking, she didn’t think she was supposed to.

The agent’s followed their supervisors in a tight group to an empty conference room with a long oak table, large enough to seat a group twice their size.

The agents found seats, and Irene Fredric tried not to snap at them when a few of the more immature of them began to swivel slightly in their chairs as she passed out thick, stapled stacks of papers from her brief case.

“These are your contracts,” She informed them, “Read them, sign them, _adhere_ to them.” She frowned at them, knowing they had broken every single one of the rules she had laid down for them when they had first arrived to the training facility.

“Yeah,” Pete stretched the word out as he thumbed through the dozens of pages, “Could you maybe give us the fast and dirty version of this? Not all of us are speed readers.” He shot a look to Myka whose eyes were flitting over lines and pages at a ridiculous rate.

“Fine,” Irene groaned, knowing many of these agents, many of the experienced agents, would never read the contracts they sign, “First and foremost, the nature of your work, your individual team’s work, is _extremely_ confidential. And that will become evident when you are debriefed on your mission later. For now, what you must know is that you get _one. One_ person with whom you may share the true nature of your work. So make your choices wisely, because failure to follow this rule will result in charges of treason at the very least.”

“Whoa,” Pete mumbled as he looked away from the intense stare of the lawyer.

She went on to list several things which they could not do, and even more things which they must do. She highlighted that they were signing over much of the next ten years of their lives, and how breaking any part of their contract would lead to charges of treason.

By the time she was finished going through the document, the ten agents had all signed them, each deciding that the drawbacks were far outweighed by the benefits of this job.

It was then that a tall, stoic man made his entrance. Irene collected the contracts while the agents’ attentions were diverted. He was bald, but with thick black eye brows, his olive skin suggesting that he may have been a foreigner. His pressed suit, silk tie and tendency to look down his nose at the agents in the room suggested that he was in charge.

This was Head Regent Kosan. While that title was handed off every three years, more often if suspicion dictated, he was often nominated by the other Regents to handle the most serious of matters of the council.

“Having signed the documents you just have, I can officially welcome you to the supreme law enforcement agency,” He spoke to them, his voice rich with an accent they couldn’t quite place, “This group, this team, is the entirety of the newly forming Warehouse 13, at least for the time being. Now, your Senior Agent will brief you on your mission when you ship out, but you need to know now, that your very existence is top secret and need to know, even within this building. Keep that in mind as you finish up your business in this building. I can’t answer any of your questions. But what I can do, is give you your badges and weapons.”

He pulled out a silver box, in each was a silver bag with serial numbers on them. Without double checking in any sort of way that the agents could discern, he walked around the table, presenting each agent with one.

Myka upended her bag as soon as it was in her hand. Out tumbled a gold shield, The words US FEDERAL AGENT in red lettering, surrounding a depiction of Lady Justice, underneath followed seven numbers, unique to each agent. Then came the heavy, but familiar weight of a gun.  

“I’m more of a Beretta man myself,” Pete commented as he got familiar with his weapon, “But the P226 aint half bad either.” He smirked.

“These weapons are only to be used as a last resort,” Kosan spoke up, “While you have all passed your weapons qualifications, you’ll be issued your less-than-lethals on the upper levels to use. Your badges symbolize you as special agents with the highest security clearance. Use it wisely. Lastly, I want to thank you all for your commitment to the Warehouse and to the United States.” He nodded curtly to the agents, all of whom had adopted identical looks of suspicion.

Just what had they gotten themselves into?

They were not given the opportunity to ask, for as soon as Kosan made his hasty exit, their supervisors quickly took them four more levels up to their next, and final stop before leaving the Warehouse 1 building.

“Research and Development?” Claudia questioned as they looked around the seemingly empty floor.

“We call it _Science Engineering and Technology,_ ” Jane rolled her eyes before looking down at her watch, “But, yes.”

Two bizarre looking men suddenly appeared before the wary group.

“Hello, who might you be?”  His dark brown hair was wild, leaving the agents to wonder if the man had even heard of a brush or gotten a trim.

“Clam down Philo, you’ll scare them,” the man with slicked back, sand colored hair chided him, “Hello Regent Lattimer, what can we do for you today? Regent Kosan said to expect you…?”

“Indeed,” she quirked an eyebrow but turned to her charges, “Agents, this is Philo Farnsworth and Nikola Tesla, they run our, what did you call it, research and development teams.”

“Wait, you’re not _the_ Farnsworth and Tesla…” Myka shook her head.

“Sadly no,” Philo chuckled, “Just the decedents of those great men, blessed with their knowledge and good looks.” He winked at her.

Rebecca coughed to cover her giggle and Myka dug her elbow into her ribs.

“Keep it in your pants man!” Nikola smacked his partner in the back of the head before addressing the Regent once more, “Please excuse Philo, he’s taken one too many shocks I’m afraid.”

Jane waved him off, “I would love to continue this, really, but we are on a bit of a schedule, so if you would be so kind as to equip these agents with the technologies they will need?”

“Of course!” He stood straighter, “Nanotech first, I assume? Right this way.” He lead them through a series of hall ways, past dozens of closed steel doors with different markings on them.

“Is it just me, or is it a ghost town in here?” Todd murmured leaving the others to agree with him. All any of them could hear was the sound of their own footsteps on the linoleum walk way, and it was chilling.

“Kosan asked us to clear the floor for your arrival,” Philo stage whispered as he once again managed to startle the agents by appearing in the middle of their group without detection, “Care to share why you’ve all become the company’s biggest secret?”

“Sorry,” Leena smirked, trying not to stare at the odd aura surrounding this peculiar man, “We’re afraid we just can’t share that information.”

Philo stuck out his lower lip, but it was to no avail. Neilson, though he would never say so out loud, was proud of his new charges. They were taking all of this in stride, and had thus far closed ranks around each other, exactly how he would need them to in the field.

They arrived in a room, each standing around a long metal table with ten tubes, each labeled with a serial number that Myka quickly realized matched with those on the badges they were issued.

“Philo, stop staring at the Agents,” Nikola snapped, “You’re up.”

“Yes, yes,” the brunet rolled his eyes before pushing his way to the table, “In these tubes are a creature of my own creation. Nanobots, that we will insert into your ear, and they will make their way to your brain before setting down in your central nerves system as well as your sensory input centers. They are individually programmed with your AI’s assigned to you. It will connect them to you and you to your Warehouse, monitoring absolutely everything you do. Any questions?”

Jack slowly raised his hand, “Yeah, um, what the fuck?” he spoke the question flitting through each of their minds, “You’re doing _what_ now?”

“I assure you, it isn’t painful,” Philo waved him off, “It’s simply a way to connect you to your artificial intelligence, and a way for the Warehouse to watch your vitals as well as everything you see and hear.”

“Simple, _right_.” Jack made a whirling motion by his temple as he shot Josh a wide eyed look.

“Look, agents, we don’t really have time for this, do you mind if we get started?” Jane addressed Farnsworth.

“First up,” Philo clapped his hands as he squinted at the tubes on the table, “Ah! CHAD! Developed here in this very lab! Who was he assigned to?”

Steve warily stepped forward, “CHAD’s not a _he_ ,” Steve rubbed the back of his neck, “Doesn’t like the ‘human gender binary assignment’”

“Never mind that now, sir, if you wouldn’t mind kindly tilting your head so your nose is horizontal with the ground… Perfect! Now hold still, this shouldn’t hurt… at least I don’t think so…” Philo upended the tube over Steve’s offered ear.

“Gah!” Steve jerked but Philo’s firm grip kept him from righting himself, “That feels so weird!”

“Count to a hundred before standing up,” Philo ordered before shoving him off, “Next up, Warehouse 2… LANA?” he picked up the tube, “If I recall correctly, the scientist responsible for her was quite thrilled-,”

“Him,” Rebecca stepped forward, interrupting him, “LANA is a _him_. Let’s get this over with.” She swept her hair out of the way before taking up the same position as Jinks.

Jinks’ reaction had somewhat prepared her for the tickling sensation that trickled down her ear canal, but she still had to suppress the squeal that tried to escape. It went on like that, each agent stepping forward when Philo tried to give a little antidote about their AI’s, more than once he had to be corrected to the proper pronouns- Jack’s PAUL preferred _she_ , Leena’s DASH and Abigale’s WILL also both non-binary- but he took it all with good humor, impressed at the complexity of the programs.

Myka was the last to walk up, since Philo had gone in order of Warehosue, and MARLE was developed in Warehouse 12, which explained the thick Louisiana accent she possessed. He then went to a computer console and, one by one, activated each of the AI’s. And while the agent’s reacquainted themselves with them, Philo passed over a hard drive to Regent Lattimer.

“All the programs for their AI’s are on there,” he assured her, “Including the back-ups.”

“Thank you, Agent Farnsworth,” she nodded, “And I do believe we have one last thing from you, Agent Tesla? We really must be on our way…”

“I understand,” Nikola nodded before pulling out ten strangely shaped guns from the locked cabinets beneath the table. “These weapons were designed as less-than-lethal weaponry for Warehouse Agents. Much like every day tasers, they emit an electrical charge via Tesla Coils. Hence why they are called Teslas.”

“And here I thought it was because of that giant ego of yours, Nikola.” Philo nudged him.

Tesla rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored his partner as he gave each agent one of the odd guns, “While they are labeled as less than lethal, they are very dangerous, especially at close range. And I do not recommend turning the dial up to the highest level. Use it wisely, it needs to be recharged often to be of any use.”

“These aren’t exactly standard issue, are they?” Myka mumbled as she looked the weapon over carefully.

“If we can find a way to improve them and convince the Regents, one day they shall be.” Nikola assured her.

“All right!” Jane recalled their attentions once more, “If that is all, we really must be headed off to the tarmac, the jet won’t wait much longer. Thank you, Agents Tesla and Farnsworth, for taking the time out of your busy schedules to assist us.”

“It was our pleasure,” Farnsworth bowed with great grandeur while Tesla sighed exasperatedly at him.

“Come on, off to the jet.” Jane turned on her heel and walked on.

But the new agents were looking around at each other for a moment, each still holding in their hands their new weapons.

“I’m not still in the loony bin, am I?” Claudia shook her head, “I mean, we have voices in our heads, no offense ERIN, and ray guns… It… it’s crazy right?”

“If you are, then we’re all here with you.” Steve assured her.

“Children!” Nielson barked from the door way, “Jet fuel isn’t cheap, stop lazing around and get a move on it!”

“Well, I guess it’s too late to back out now anyway.” Myka shrugged before leading the group to follow the older agents.


	9. The Brotherhood

Flying made Claudia nervous, that mush was obvious as she kept tapping her foot rapidly on the floor. The sound filled the small cabin, and it was driving several of the other passengers insane. Steve was working to keep her distracted, but her nerves wouldn’t allow relaxation for any amount of time.

More than once, it had been quietly suggested they sedate the girl for the sanity of the rest, but those were only jests… well mostly… at first anyway…

Otherwise, it had been a quite flight thus far, the G550 holding only the team members, even the pilot was Dr. Calder with Colonel Nielson as her co-pilot. And as soon as they had gotten comfortable in the plane, Jane informed them that she couldn’t share any information with them yet. Deeming the information too sensitive to give out until they arrived at their final destination.

The agents were becoming quickly annoyed with the secretive nature of their new boss. The clandestine aspect of the job they were going into had been thrilling at first, now they were just itching to know what was so damn _sensitive_ that they had to hire a brand new team that no one knew about, and then not tell them what it was they were supposed to be doing. And just why a plane thirty thousand feet in the air owned by the largest government law enforcement agency wasn’t a private enough setting for their paranoid Regent.

“Indiana,” Myka bit her thumb nail as she looked over the flight plan, “Lake County, Indiana private air field.”

“What the hell is in Lake County, Indiana?” Rebecca’s lip twitching disdainfully, as she glanced over her friend’s shoulder.

“It’s the edge of the liberated territories.” Myka said thoughtfully, glancing out the window, “That’s as far as the Warehouse’s influences go.”

“So were going to Indiana?” Rebecca’s eyebrow quirked as she tried- unsuccessfully- to read Myka’s face.

“I don’t think so, I mean, Warehouse 11 is in Indianapolis,” Myka closed her eyes, looking at the territories map seared into her mind, trying to recall as much memory as she could at once, “But if that’s where we were going, there are several air strips and airports closer. The only reason I can think of going to Lake County would be to get as close to the border of Illinois as possible while still remaining under the radar. From there, we’ll probably drive the rest of the way.”

“Right you are, Agent Bering,” Jane nodded from where she sat reading at the seat closest to the door, “We don’t want to have to clear our flight plans with anyone else, and as you pointed out, our influence to make people look the other way only goes as far as Lake County. I’ll have more information for you after we land there.”

Her voice was clinical, disinterested, and it made most of the agents mad. It made Pete Lattimer sad and confused. His whole life he had grown up with the belief that his mother was an elementary school teacher in small town Ohio. Though he figured that was what the Warehouse wanted, to have its council of Regents to be made up of the people you would least expect to have power. Nevertheless, it was going to take him a while to get used to the idea of his mom being some badass Regent.

It was a thankfully short flight, and two hours later, the agents stood on the abandoned tarmac, wondering where their supervisors had wandered off to after telling them to stay put. Before anyone could suggest they go off in search of the senior agents, they caught sight of two black vans approaching them steadily. They tensed before realizing it was Nielson behind the wheel of one, and Vanessa driving the other.

Pete, Myka, Claudia, Steve and Rebecca piled into the van that already held Vanessa and Jane while Leena, Jack, Abigale, Todd and Joshua got settled in to the other with Mrs. Fredric and Colonel Nielson.

As they continued their trip, it became too much for the agents, and they demanded to be told where they were going.

“South Dakota.” Jane relented, knowing at least that the vehicles they were in now were safe from being monitored or bugged. Safe enough, at least, to share that much, “We are going to Univille, South Dakota, that’s all you’re getting from me until we arrive, though.”

“That’s a twelve hour drive!” Myka’s jaw dropped.

“It is in fact,” Jane closed her eyes as she relaxed into the passenger seat, “And I suggest you rest up while you can, we start our real work as soon as our feet hit the ground.”

Claudia was uncomfortable with the thought of being trapped in the metal box for such a stretch of time, but for her at least, it was preferable to flying, though it would have cut their travel time considerably. She and Steve took the Regent’s advice, and promptly closed their eyes, a music player shared between the two of them keeping them from listening in on the conversation behind them.

“Okay, _Myclopidia_ ,” Pete lowered his voice, shooting a glance at his mother before ducking his head towards Myka and Rebecca, “What the hell is in Univille, South Dakota?”

“All I know is that South Dakota is smack in the middle of Brotherhood Territory.” Myka frowned, “I’m surprised they’re sending us all the way out there.”

“You think if they were starting a new Warehouse they would send us to, I don’t know, Illinois, or Wisconsin or Kentucky,” Rebecca shook her head, “The Hive still controls those states, right?” she looked to Myka for conformation.

“That’s what everyone expects them to do though, isn’t it?” Myka argued, “And if they have decided to move on- because, let’s face it, did we really think they were only going ot go after the Hive and leave the others alone?- they probably want to send in a recon team, hence the secrecy…” she trailed off.

“Well, what do we know about the Brotherhood?” Pete asked, his face scrunching up, surely he himself could think of something… but he had grown up in Ohio, which had been a Hive controlled state until the Warehouse took over. HE knew next to nothing about The Brotherhood or Manifestus Fatum. Hell, all he knew about the Republic of Texas was it was ran by the Texas Rangers after they over threw the state government nearly a hundred years prior.  

Rebecca shrugged, “I can tell you anything you need to know about the Hive, but I grew up in Rockford, so that isn’t surprising. The Mob’s have never been one to share information between one another. Mykes?”

“Hey, I can tell you that Tommy Gentry started Manifestus in 2046, and that they were the biggest territory until Texas expanded. I can tell you it’s currently ran by the Gentry Family and the Gomez family. I can tell you all about them and the crimes they got away with in Colorado. But the only thing I can tell you about the Brotherhood is they don’t play well with others.”

“I’m sensing a pattern here,” Rebecca bit her lip, “Where are they from,” she nodded her head to the dozing pair in the middle row.

“Steve is from Jersey, so he’s a Warehouse boy.” Pete supplied.

“And Claudia bounced around California until they picked her up.” Myka stated, leaving out the details of just where they had picked Claudia up.

“Well, my mom’s from North Canton, and Vanessa and Artie are both from New York,” Pete nodded, “They worked for Warehouse 1.”

“How did you know that?” Myka made a face.

“I got a vibe about it while we were there, like they knew their way around.” Pete shrugged.

“A vibe, right” Rebecca and Myka exchanged a look.

“No, Agent Lattimer is correct,” MARLE’s voice buzzed around Myka’s head, causing her to shake it back and forth, it was going to take some getting used to.

“What about the others?” Myka asked, shoulders sagging.

“Josh grew up in Southern California,” Pete tried to hide his smug smile, knowing Myka and Rebecca had both expected him to be wrong.

“And Jack’s from San Francisco.” Rebecca added, not knowing how she remembered that bit of information, and hoped they wouldn’t ask her.

“Leena and Mrs. Fredric are from DC,” Myka continued on, sensing Rebecca’s discomfort.

“Agent Cho is form Seattle, Washington and Agent Nolan is from Arkansas,” MARLE supplied helpfully.

“So none of us are even from that territory,” Myka concluded, “How do they expect us to know the first thing about the Brotherhood?”

No one thought it was a coincidence that they were all from the other territories, the Brotherhood’s reach spreading over ten states. But they were left to wonder why. Twelve hours and one rest stop later, they still had no answers.

They had caught the other agents up on their musings, but sharing hadn’t made the Warehouse’s intentions any clearer.

It was two am when they entered the Univille city limits, but the city was thrumming, alive with activity even at this hour. Lights pulsed through the club districts, the sky scrapers were still lit as the businessmen burned the midnight oil, and there was a siren ringing every few minutes. It was hard to believe this was once a small town that went to bed predictable every evening at eight.

Despite having been seated for nearly the whole day, Myka was exhausted, and as she watched the neon and spotlights flash throughout the city, she found herself impatient for their journey to come to an end.

Much to her disappointment, they drove right through the city without stopping. When they were forty minutes from the pulsing city night life, Vanessa slowly brought the van to a stop and turned the head lights off, throwing them into near total darkness.

“What are we-?” Steve’s question was cut off as Vanessa pushed the gas down once more, turning the wheel so they drove through the empty filed they had come to a rest at.

It was a terrifying and bumpy ride, each agent flailing for a hand hold, curding and saying their final prayers all to the background music of Vanessa laughing gleefully at their reactions, her passengers unaware of her night vision spectacles.

When they came to a screeching stop, the agents shoved each other out of the way to escape the madwoman’s van. Shaky legs lead to them falling to their legs, kissing the steady ground as several of them fought back the urge to vomit.

It wasn’t until Colonel Nielson’s van pulled up beside them, having driven a reasonable speed, that they recovered enough to realize they were standing before an insanely large building.

“What the hell?” The agents stood side by side looking at the warehouse. It grew into the mountain, making it look like it was, and always had been, simply part of its surroundings.

“Welcome to Warehouse 13.” Arthur gestured before walking to a door that seemed absurdly small in comparison, opening a side panel to type in the security code, “Well? Are you coming?”

The agent’s scrambled to catch up.

“Explosive?” Pete mouthed, pointing to the tubes lining the pristinely white hall way.

“Don’t touch the bombs!” Arthur barked over his shoulder with out missing a step in his stride.

Pete jerked his hand back, eyes wide.

They came to the second door, this one requiring a retina scan before its heacy steel swung inward, bringing them to a large office space.

It’s walls held empty shelves and filing cabinets, the floor covered in dust and foot prints form previosu people stamping through.

“What is this place?” Leena asked for all of them.

“Warehouse 13.” Arthur rolled his eyes, hadn’t he already said that?

“Yeah, but the Warehouses are usually, ya know, in office buildings in the city.” Jack argued, “Not in the middle of the country in an abandoned field.”

“Well, the Warehouse’s presence hasn’t been a secret before this.” Jane explained, “So instead, we decided to… _repurpose_ an old IRS warehouse that the government never got around to bulldozing and selling off.”

“IRS?” Pete tilted his head.

“That’s what the Government Tax Collectors used to be called before.” Myka explained.

Arthur lead them out of the office briefly to a catwalk that over looks a vast warehouse floor, filled with endless rows of shelves, all empty.

“Wow,” Claudia gaped before smiling and shouting _wow_ once more so that it echoed infinitely back at them.

“We plan to turn it into a larger base, lawyer’s offices, forensics departments, the works. But for now, it’s not necessary, or strictly possible if we plan to stay under the radar.” Jane herded them back into the office, around the desks with sleeping computers, to a small cluster of couches and chairs.

“Are you going to tell us what we’re doing now?” Myka spoke up for them after taking her seat, choosing to perch on the arm of the sofa so she could stand at a moment’s notice.

“As you have already guessed, we are here to do a recon of sorts on a new threat, now that the Hive has very nearly been eliminated, the Regents would like to get a head start on The Brotherhood.” The regent paced back and forth in front of them, “What we know so far about the Brotherhood is surprisingly little. Unlike the Hive with it’ single monarch, or Manifestus with its ruling families, there are three figure head’s that run the territory. As far as we can tell, Univille is their base of operations.”

She pulled forward a white board, rolling on wheels, on it were three pictures. Well, two pictures and one generic silhouette indicating a third.

“James MacPherson,” she indicated to the first picture of a man with grey hair, looking down his hooked nose with disdain in his washed out brown eyes, “Aged 54, from Aberystwyth, Wales, an American citizen for the last thirty years. He is the most prominent of the three, most often seen, though never in connection to anything illegal. To the community he is a businessman, with his hand in everything from the financial market to half the clubs on the strip.” She passed out the thin files containing the information they had on him.

“Walter Sykes,” She moved on while they briefly thumbed through the few pages to the photo of a man with white blonde hair, and pale blue eyes, smirking dangerously at them, “Age 49, he’s originally from Boston, we believe he _may_ have been a member of the Hive previously. He is seen as the CEO of a technology company, A to Z Tech, but through several traces, we also believe him to be involved in the darker sides of the night life going on in the city.” She handed them another sadly thin file.

“And that one?” Myka nodded towards the final picture, the name beneath catching her attention, “Who’s HG Wells? And why don’t we have a picture?”

“Right,” Jane sighed, “HG Wells is a phantom. A mixture of suburban folklore and horror story. Sometimes, he’s seen as the Robin Hood of the city, cleaning up the messy bits that get out of hand. What he really is, is a pain in the ass. We know he runs a big part of The Brotherhood, but no one’s been able to identify him, and most people don’t believe he’s a real person. HG Wells is most likely an alias, named for the nineteenth century author. So we have almost nothing on him save a few crimes he’s been blamed for.”

“So, what are we here for?” Pete asked, rubbing his eyes, fighting the exhaustion threatening to take over and resisting the urge to yawn, “What’s our job? Start knocking on doors and investigating?”

“No,” Jane shook her head at her son, “We’re here undercover. Which is why none of you are from the territory, and your names have been erased from every database, save for your covers, which you’ll have to memorize. You five,” she pointed to the field agents, “Will try and infiltrate the Brotherhood, gain as much information as possible as we try to destroy them from the inside out.” She had a thicker stack of files that she passed out now, each with the serial number of one of the agents stamped on the front, “Secord and St. Clair, you’re investigating Vice Crimes.”

“These are just sexist,” Rebecca grumbled as she looked through her file, having been the first to receive hers, “Let me get this straight, you want me to take over the prostitution ring in the city?”

“Sykes’ hands are all over them,” Jane explained, “You yourself don’t have to turn tricks, we would never ask that of you. What we need is for you to get the girls and boys working those streets to turn on their pimps and work for you instead. You’ll catch Sykes’ attention and hopefully he will try to get you on his pay roll. When we get to that point, we’ll change up the plan so you can start to get information on him.

“Agent Secord, you are going to be the one to follow the drugs,” she moved on, ignoring the look of disgust on Rebecca’s face, “You need to go up the ranks there, from dealer, to distributer, until you find the supplier. We believe Sykes to be bankrolling it, but we need to know who his suppliers are.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Myka scoffed upon receiving her file, interrupting Jane’s explanations, “I’m with Becks, these seriously are sexist. What you want me to do is basically sleep my way up the food chain.” She waved the file in front of her angrily.

“Agent Bering, please hear us,” Jane tried to sooth her, “The so called “old ladies” are the back bones for these mobs. They know everything about everything. You can start there, _but_ if you see an opening to get a more desirable role in the Brotherhood, you’re free to act with in your own digression. We’ll be placing you in the places MacPherson and his men are known to frequent.

“And Agent Lattimer, you are going to try and work your way through the ranks, starting from the bottom as security for MacPherson and his men, and try and earn yourself more responsibility. And Agent Jinks, we’ll be placing you in the Univille Police department. We want to know if it’s run by the Brotherhood, or if they’ve become their own enterprise.”

“Over-all, your responsibilities as undercover agents is recon,” she looked to each of them, “We want as much information on the kings of this territory before we call in the reinforcemetns. AS it is, you are all authorized to commit crimes to solidify your role in the Brotherhood. Anything short of murder we can condone, so long as you can justify your actions in your reports, which you’ll have to come in and write once a week.

“Anything else you need to know is in your files. What you need to remember is that you aren’t who you were before. You are no longer Marines, or Rangers or Intelligence officers or homicide detectives. Learn your new identities better than you know yourselves. Don’t let them catch you in a lie. We have contingency plans, but the people you see around you are all we have as back up for the foreseeable future.”

With one last serious look at her field agents, Jane Lattimer went on to explain what was expected of the other agents.

Arthur was whom they all reported to. He would stay in the Warehouse 24/7, he would be the one that told them what to do when it was necessary.

Vanessa was a medical examiner, and would be placed in the coroner’s office for the county so that she could look over every suspicious death and if they could link them to any member of the Brotherhood.

Abigale and Todd would be collecting evidence with the investigation bureau, insinuating themselves into the high profile crime scenes and reporting from the ground.

Leena and Joshua were starting up the lab, where any of the other agents could bring them samples for analysis and testing.

And Claudia was the most excited about her assignment. She was “Big Sister”, and introduced to a giant room filled with computers. It was her job to do everything cyber related. Track money, hack the city grid, steal surveillance, and babysit the agents’ vitals and sensory input. She couldn’t wait to start her job, never before had she been given so much room to let her talent run rampant.

Lastly, as the sun was beginning to rise, Regent Lattimer finally did something that made everyone else smile as wide as Claudia. She told them where they would be living, and passed out the keys to their assigned vehicles.

Most of the agents were given low key cars that would easily blend in with the city, but the four Agents tasked with infiltrating the Brotherhood head on were given cars that matched with their backgrounds and duties.

Pete had a black SUV, heavily tinted windows with bullet proof doors and windows and plated tires. Jack was given a similar SUV that was much less modified, and a little older. Rebecca was gifted with a newer white Cadillac that had Pete drooling. Myka should have expected as much after reading just what her cover story was, but she found herself groaning regardless at the old yellow convertible that awaited her. She was, after all, supposedly running away from a bad life from the north, why should she have a nice car like the others?

The agents played follow the leader into the city after having been dismissed, each with the heading of an old bed and breakfast that was purchased by a Warehouse off shore account. They arrived mostly unnoticed, the city finally quieting down as the night light fell into their alcohol induced sleep and the working class had yet to leave for work. They had the intent to fall into bed immediately upon arriving, but curiosity go the better of most of them when they got to the quaint looking B&B.

With the ten younger agents living there, they were the only ones able to stay, a no-vacancy sign placed on the lawn. It was between the city and suburbs, blending in seamlessly with its surroundings. Painted white and blue with a manicured lawn, it was down-right homey.

The agents spent an hour or so exploring the rooms, finding their own quarters quiet easily. They had been filled to match up with their background stories and intended work, including the closets so they could blend in with the city life. After looking at what she was expected to wear, Myka almost missed the pant suits that were required of her back in Denver.

The agents collapsed on their beds, bot feeling bad about sleeping when they knew most of their jobs wouldn’t begin until the sun set.

After all, they would really need the rest with the work they had waiting for them that night.


	10. Instinct

The clothes Myka found in her closet had her gulping. She didn’t know what she expected to find, but after discovering dresser drawers full of an absurd amount of lace and silk, she had convinced herself it couldn’t be worse. And besides, _those_ would be covered- in theory at least.

Now looking at the clothes that hung in neat rows on black hangers, all of which seemed to be a size too small despite what their labels claimed, she wasn’t so sure.

She was going through them one at a time, trying to find something that wouldn’t make her blush just _looking_ at, when there was a knock at her bedroom door. The caller didn’t wait for her to answer, choosing instead to simply walk in without invitation.

Myka sighed, but it was half-hearted. None of the agents on her team ever seemed to respect the symbol of a closed door. In reality, she was lucky they had bothered to knock at all. Normally they didn’t even announce their presence, or she would find them sitting on her bed waiting for her return. She supposed she shouldn’t have expected that to change just because they were no longer at the New York training facility.

The steady tapping of high heels across the wood floor had her glancing with slight curiosity over her shoulder, so used to the soft thump of tennis shoes or the near silent shuffling of socked feet. What she saw had her spinning quickly around.

“I feel fucking ridiculous,” Rebecca declared as she stood before Myka, hands on her hips, daring Myka to say something contrary to what she was feeling.

Myka couldn’t quite recall how to form words or control her eyes as they roamed freely over her friend’s form. The dangerously short, black skirt coupled with the suicide heels making her toned legs look impossibly long, the blood red button down shirt tied so her midriff was on display. Her hair fell in heavy auburn waves, tumbling around her shoulders. Her sever make-up magnifying her smirk and quirked eye brow as she watched Myka flounder for something to say.

“You have a belly button piercing.” Was what finally came tripping off Myka’s tongue.

Rebecca scoffed and rolled her eyes before snapping her fingers in front of Myka’s face, “If you’re done ogling me, I want to see what outfits the Regents have deemed practical for someone sleeping their way up the Mob food chain. So have you picked something yet?”

Myka’s lip twitched in disdain when reminded of what her particular mission was, to fuck the secrets out of the mobsters, apparently. Not that she wasn’t going to do everything in her power to change that to something less demeaning. Such as maybe join the Brotherhood herself. When was everyone going to stop living like they were stuck hundred years ago? Was it so crazy to have a woman in a powerful position?

“I can’t believe they give the cool undercover assignments to the guys and stick us in the leather and high heels.” Myka groaned before turning back to her closet.

“You got leather?” Rebecca piped up, “No way, let me see-,”

“Nuh-uh,” Myka slammed her closet doors shut, blushing furiously as she used her body as a barrier between her closet and her friend, “Besides, shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, out turning tricks or something?”

“You’re no fun,” Rebecca rolled her eyes, “I just wanted to check in with you before I went out for the night, you have my number right? I don’t care what they say, if you need me to back you up, I’ll be there.”

Pete and Myka, both assigned to MacPherson’s trail, had been deemed partners. The same went for Rebecca and Jack, whose goal was to track Sykes. But Myka knew she would drop anything if any one of her team members called for help. It was nice to know some felt the same for her.

“And what about you?” Myka tried to turn the mushy feelings into normal banter, “If you get into trouble, you’ll, what, stab them with a high heel?”

“No, I’m armed.” Rebecca argued.

Myka couldn’t help her eyes from searching over Rebecca’s body once more, “Uh, where?”

Rebecca merely chuckled and turned on her heel with a wink, “I’ll see you in the morning, Mykes.”

“Have fun hooking!” Myka called out after her with a smile before groaning and going back to the task at hand. Surely there had to be something that wasn’t too bad on her…

* * *

Steve Jinks was nervous, and he was afraid it would show in the form of soaking his uniform in sweat. The setting sun had relieved the town of some of the stifling heat, but it didn’t feel that way to the under-cover agent as he pulled at the starched collar around his neck.

He glanced up at the clock for the hundredth time since sitting. It was as if the hand hadn’t moved at all.

The police chief had sat him there as he checked out his story. That he was a transfer from another district. Fear was rotting in Steve’s stomach that he would be found out before he could even start the job.

The chief came an unhappy scowl on his face, a heavy giant as he strode to Steve’s seat, he had a blonde woman, an officer, in toe, her face no less unhappy.

“Officer Jinks,” The chief finally smiled a bit, “Welcome to the force. I hope you don’t mind if we start you on a shift already. You know how it is, when the temperature goes up, so does the crime rate. We’ll start you on the night shift, eight to four. This is your partner.” His scowl returned as he waved to the blonde.

That’s when Steve realized that he hadn’t been found out, the grimace wasn’t for him, but rather for the woman he was with. He had done it, he had gotten the job! He was in! Steve was on his feet, hand out to her.

“Hi, I’m Steve,” he shook his head, “Jinks. Steve Jinks.” He swallowed.

The blonde smiled slowly as she looked him up and down before finally accepting his hand, “Sally Stokowski,” her voice was dripping with honey, a southern accent softening it to deceptively sweet, “And while I must say it is a real pleasure to meet you, Stevie, I don’t need a partner.”

“And as I told you,” The chief barked at her, “You don’t have a choice, it’s department policy. And as I told you last time, if you chase another one off, it won’t stop us from replacing them again.” He stomped off to his office without another word.

“Well,” Sally turned back to her newest partner, “I guess we better get started then.” She pulled her long, corn silk hair up, “I don’t know what backwoods town you came from, but let me assure you, this is no small town.”

Steve nodded, “Let’s go then.”

“Let’s.” She smiled before leading him off, trying to decide if this Steve Jinks would be so different from those who had to learn the hard way that she didn’t play nice with others.

* * *

Jack, his hair having grown over the last few months, had slicked his hair back with a ridiculous amount of gel, allowing him to blend in well with the shady individuals crawling around his half of the city club scene.

He had dressed in a tacky silk shirt, dark jeans, and ostentatious shoes. One too many rinds adorned his fingers, and a fake Rolex encircled his wrist.

He strolled the avenue, watching carefully the dealings going on around him. It took no time at all to identify who the local dealers were and what they were selling. The clientele where interesting enough, seeing who was buying, and what certain types of people tended to buy. Business men being slipped bags of white powder, a few twitchy individuals taking off-white, nearly brown powder, teenagers and young adults seemed to favor the green stuff.

Jack scoffed, this was going to be too easy. He was authorized to make deals, and had a few bags of nearly everything being sold that night on him. But how was he going to get people to buy from him? Drug addicts were creatures of habit, they weren’t going to seek out someone they didn’t know.

So instead, he made himself appear as if he belonged, mimicked the stances of the dealers he saw. He put his sun glasses on, despite the only light available at the hour was the dim street laps and the flashing neon. He picked a corner, in-between a shady massage parlor and a liquor store, and leaned against it casually, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it between his lips.

Now all he could do was wait to find a contact for him.

* * *

Rebecca thought wearing what she was would make her feel degraded. But, for some reason, the dropping jaws mixed with the steady sound of her heels clicking against the pavement served as a confidence booster as she slowly gave in to the persona that had been created for her.

She walked right past Jack, who did a double take but didn’t otherwise acknowledge her. She wasn’t even completely sure he had recognized her. It didn’t take the sting form it though, the fact that they hadn’t spoken since leaving the Facility. She was trying her damnedest to not let that bother her.

God, she hated him something awful.

She had spent the last two months trying to figure out if he was a good guy pretending to be an asshole because he was uncomfortable with the situation, pretending to be an asshole because he wanted to hide what he was feeling, pretending to be an asshole because his emotional pool ran shallow, _or_ if he was genuinely an asshole.

The latter seemed more likely now that he seemed to be avoiding her like the bubonic plague since their… well, whatever the fuck that was between them after drinking far too much their last night at the facility…

Whatever, if he was going to be so blasé about it, she was damn sure not going to let it affect her. Especially not now that she had an actual job to do.

With that thought in mind, she fixed her stride, zeroing in on the women she could see working the streets. She would need to work a special brand of charm she hadn’t tried before. She needed people to want to work for her. They would still be stuck in the same shitty life, hopefully they wanted it to be a little more comfortable for them.

She popped her gum as she zeroed in on one woman. She couldn’t have been older that nineteen, and from the looks of the conversation she was having with the man twice her age, she was the perfect target to flip.

She put her phone against her ear so she wouldn’t look like she was talking to herself, “LANA,” she let her eyes wander, seemingly aimlessly over the crowds, always reverting back to the girl and man locked in a heated conversation, “I need you to run a check on those two. Man, in his late thirties, black hair, at my two o’clock, and the girl in the animal print skirt and pink halter top.”

“You’ve got it,” Her AI chirped in his decidedly feminine voice.

When she had first been getting acquainted with her AI, she thought it odd that the computer with a female voice would identify as male. But as he pointed out for her, he was only programmed with a female voice by the hacker who wrote his code. But she had just gone with it, deciding it was up to him, and she didn’t care either way.

“Zeke Killian,” LANNA came through a moment later, “Thirty four, Univille citizen, arrested four times for illegal trafficking, and another five for battery and assault. No convictions. And the girl is Taylor ‘Candy’ Bryant, twenty. Ran away from home at sixteen, originally from Kingsbury County. Arrested twice for solicitation. No convictions.”

“Can you get into hospital records for Bryant?” Rebecca asked, still looking for her angle, keeping her voice low, though no one was paying her much attention. She was blending in disturbingly well with the crowd that crawled this underbelly of the city.

“I can’t get any specifics, but I can tell you she should have a bed reserved for her in the ER for the amount of times she’s visited.” If LANA was real, Rebecca would have thought he was shaking his head as he spoke.

“Got it,” Rebecca nodded before putting the phone away, decision made.

She knew throwing herself between a prostitute and her pimp wasn’t the smartest decision. But it was the only one she could think of off the top of her head, and she really hoped all those hours spent sparing with her fellow agents would pay off.

* * *

They’d given Pete an in. It was nearly as good as Jinks’, but while Steve’s position was a given, Pete had a more fragile chance. Where Steve was walking on a steel cable hundreds of feet in the air, Pete was shimmying his way across a stretch of floss holding him the same hundreds of feet in the air, only sharks awaited him at the bottom.

He was sitting at the back of some seedy club called _Curiosity_ , the music blasting through the bass blown speakers muted as he sat across from three other large men in a private booth. While it definitely was not his scene, Pete was at least glad he and Myka had been placed on the north end of the strip, an area that catered more to college life and the middle class.

While he was sure there was some shady business going on around him, he was sure it was nothing compared to the night the two other undercover agents must’ve been having.

“So, Lattimer,” the front man, Justin Hall, let his icy eyes glare through Pete, and the ex-marine had to call on all his training not to break under the pressure, “You were in the military?” he went on when Pete’s only reaction to the intimidation was to call on his inner Myka and quirk an expectant eyebrow at him.

“Well, that depends on your definition of military,” Pete crossed his arms, not quite used to the tight fabric of the black t-shirt stretching across his chest. He would feel much safer if he had on his Kevlar, “I never worked under a flag, but I was sent in to handle… difficult situations.”

“And you left being a mercenary to join a security company?” Hall challenged.

Pete knew full well this security company was a front for MacPherson’s personal army, and he was guessing the man across from him now knew Pete had that information, “What can I say? I was looking to slow down, not completely stop. Guy like me can’t just retire and golf. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

“Look, Lattimer,” Hall seemed to relax, “Pete, you seem like a good enough guy, but we don’t trust outsiders too easily. That being said, we don’t want to give you up only to have another… security company to pick you up. So, until we can find something a bit more befitting of the skills a man such as yourself has acquired, we’ll higher you on as club security. For _this_ club. You understand?”

“I understand,” Pete nodded, “But once you finally get your head out of your ass and realize you could use me for a lot more than babysitting the privileged college kids, I expect that job, how did you put it, more _befitting_ my particular skill set.” He was calling on ever badass he had seen in every movie to pull this off, but a part of him worried it wasn’t going to work.

For a moment, Hall just stared at Pete, trying to read him. Whatever he saw, however, had him cracking a grin, “I like you Lattimer. What do you say you start tonight, and we’ll draw up the papers for you tomorrow?” He stuck his hand out.

Pete accepted the hand shake, and the men all rose from the table together and went about normal banter with one another as they moved to their stations and Hall took Pete to the office. He wasn’t so naive to think that he was out of the woods with his cover just yet.

As they had pointed out, they didn’t trust easily. And this was going to be one rough trial run. Of that he was sure.

* * *

Despite having slept most of the day away, when three am found Myka, she was exhausted. Her feet were aching, and while the clothes she ultimately pulled from the closet were mild in comparison to the rest, she was supremely uncomfortable in them.

She had been bar and club hopping since ten, trying to get a fee for the different joints in town, seeing if she could pick out the few she suspected of being involved with the darker elements of Univille. She had only allowed herself half a drink at each stop, not near enough for her liking. Not enough to make her comfortable in her own skin, and for damn sure not enough to make her comfortable with the presence of other people.

This was it, she decided, the last club for the night. She hadn’t even gone the whole strip, but if she got groped one more time, she wasn’t going to be able to stop herself from doing something stupid, like breaking the poor guy’s arm.

There was a different feel about this place, what was it called? She couldn’t quite remember, not having bothered to look at the sign over the door. But the music was different from the last five places. Not much, but enough that it caught her off guard, and was almost a relief to her ears.

People were dancing, people were always dancing, but this too was slightly different. The patrons were moving with abandon. The atmosphere was darker, the lights less harsh, a heaviness settled over the place. Though it wasn’t uncomfortable. On the contrary, this was the first establishment that Myka had walked into that she didn’t want to immediately leave.

She winds her way to the bar, already deciding that, since this was her last stop, and she could have more than half a beer here. It was packed, and while people were gyrating against each other over almost every inch of the place, it was rather easy to weave her way through.

It was her luck that someone abandoned their stool as she arrived, sweaty and panting, part of her itching to join the carefree souls on the dance floor.

The bartender noticed her as soon as she walked through the doors. She had merely glanced up from the endless stream of drink orders pouring their way into her, but what she saw had her looking for a lot longer than was probably appropriate.

While the woman’s tight black jeans and leather jacket helped her blend in with the crowd, something about her was setting her apart in the bar tenders mind. Something that didn’t quite fit. Something intriguing.

For the time being, she had to turn her attention back to the drink orders, so she didn’t realize the woman was now sitting four feet away from her.

Myka was watching the bartender move through the different drink orders with ease, never having to ask a customer to repeat an order or double check ingredients. She moved with a grace Myka though absurd to see behind a bar. Her dark hair swished with every twist and turn she made, it was what had caught Myka’s attention in the first place. And now she found she couldn’t take her eyes off of her.

Myka noticed, in the minutes she sat there, that drink orders came in waves, and this last one was reaching its end for the time being. So that when the woman turned almost unconsciously to one of the few remaining bodies at her bar, Myka had her full attention.

“Hello, can I fetch something for you?” Her voice sounded odd to Myka, the accent catching her off guard slightly. She was almost convinced the woman was faking it, but it was a ridiculous notion, and an even more ridiculous accent to fake, so Myka quickly brushed it off.

“Yes I need a drink,” Myka smiled, finding herself trapped in the gaze of the beautiful woman behind the counter.

“I figured that’s what brought you here,” the woman smirked, “What would you like?”

“Hmmm,” Myka made a show of letting her eyes wander to the racks of alcohol behind her, “Long island?” It was an old drink that Myka knew people used to order quite frequently in bars, but the trend had fallen out. It was a sort of test for the bartender, one Myka didn’t understand why she was giving, but the challenge was clear in her gaze.

The bartender pursed her lips for a moment before pulling out a tall glass, she scooped ice into it before filling it with the four types of alcohol required, and when she stuck a straw in it and slid it to Myka, both woman were smiling at each other.

“You’ll have to try a bit harder than that, darling, if you’re planning on tripping me up at work.” The bartender shook her head, her dark hair curtaining her face for a moment before she ran her hand through it, brushing it back with a wicked grin.

Myka took a huge gulp of her drink when the other woman was distracted with another customer. Then another. She needed the courage to flirt with the beautiful woman, she decided, taking another drink.

It was half empty when the bartender came back around.

“How’s the drink,-?” she trailed off with a tilt to her head.

“Myka,” she supplied.

“Emily,” the other woman smiled, “So? Did I pass your little challenge?”

“For now,” Myka allowed with a chuckle, enjoying the warmth the drink was offering her, “Don’t take this the wrong way, Emily, but what is up with this place? I’ve been to a few other clubs in town but this one is….” She trailed off with the shake of her head.

“You’re new to town, aren’t you?” Emily’s dark eyes were lit by humor as she looked over Myka slowly.

“Guilty,” Myka nodded.

“Well, Instinct is different from the other pubs in town, that’s for sure.” Emily looked around, “The mood seems to change each night… you should see this place on Friday night.”

“Maybe I will,” Myka took another drink, not letting her eyes stray form Emily’s as she did it, “That is, if you’ll be here to accept another drink challenge from yours truly.”

Emily smiled, “If the day ends with a y, I shall be here. I’m the only one who works the bar.”

“Doesn’t that get hectic?” Myka tilted her head.

“Terribly so,” Emily nodded, “I’ve been meaning to get some help. Say, you wouldn’t happen to know how to make any of these drinks?” Emily quirked an eyebrow.

“A few, but I am a quick study,” Myka found herself leaning on her elbows, ever so closer to the bartender.

“If you’d like to pick up a few shifts with me…”

Emily’s offer was interrupted when a large man stumbled into the seat beside Myka with a huff, facing her with a crooked smile that would have been endearing if not for the stench of alcohol that clung to him.

“Hey, gorgeous,” He drawled to her, “You’re new around here, aren’t you? I mean, I work MacPherson’s places, and I haven’t seen you around here…”

“Kurt,” Emily’s voice was low with warning, something dark flashed in her eyes, so quickly that Myka wasn’t all together sure she’d actually seen it.

“Having a conversation here Em,” the man- Kurt- growled at her.

Emily rolled her eyes and went to the other end of the bar where a patron was hailing her.

“I am new here,” Myka bit down her disappointment at the other woman’s retreat, but Kurt’s mention of MacPherson was the first she heard of the man that whole night, “And I thought this place was Instinct, not MacPherson’s…?” Myka trailed off, doing her best to sound ditzy.

“Oh, sweetie,” he drunkenly shook his head, “Every club is MacPherson’s, he owns the strip.” He hiccupped, “But enough about my stuffy boss, let me buy you a drink.”

“I would really like that, but,” Myka let her hands drift over Kurt’s arm, swallowing the disgust she felt at the contact, “I’m working,” she hoped up onto the bar before sliding over to the opposite end with a wink at a chuckling Emily.

Kurt smiled at her, ignoring the subtle brush off, “I guess that mean’s I can catch you here later then?”

“Of course.” Myka nodded.

As Kurt sauntered away in search of another target, Emily sidled up next to Myka, “I see you’ve decided to accept my offer then?”

Myka suppressed the shutter that threatened her when Emily’s breath brushed over her neck, and instead, turned with a flirty smile, “Girls’ gotta make a living? Why not have fun while you’re at it?”

“I guess I’ll need your full name then, and phone number then,” Emily took a step so she was in Myka’s personal space, “If I’m going to be making checks out to you, I mean.”

“Bering,” Myka’s voice was lower than she meant it to be, so she had to clear her throat and repeat it, “Myka Bering.” She stuck her hand out, blaming the alcohol she’d consumed for her dizziness.

“”Emily Lake,” she accepted the hand, though she held it for longer than necessary, and the women stood staring at each other until patrons calling for drinks pulled them out of their small world.

Emily winked at Myka and set her loose on the customers.

“Oh boy,” Myka huffed, knowing as she shot her new boss’ stellar figure one more fleeting glance, that this undercover job might just have a few perks she wasn’t counting on, before turning to the impatient customers, “What can I get you?”


	11. Show Me How to Lie

“Lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off,”* Rebecca sighed with a smile as she fell into the oversized reading chair in the living room of the B&B, Abigale lowered her newspaper and coffee, quirking her eyebrow at the agent as she kicked off the six inch stilettoes she had been wearing for the last nine hours.

She groaned as she slowly relaxed into the cushions, her back cracking in protest at first, but the relief to be off her feet greatly over shadowed it.

“Dare I ask how your night was?” Abigale spoke when Rebecca’s make-up painted eyelids began to slip closed.

Rebecca snorted, rolling her head to look the forensics agent. At first, she had ben envious of Abigale and Leena, they had received normal nine to five jobs. And despite the night she had, she found herself changing her mind, suddenly glad she got the assignment she did.

“I kicked a pimp in the knee.” She sung smugly, “And that was before I broke his nose.”

“What?” Abigale chocked on the coffee she tried to sip.

Rebecca went on to tell Abigale how, after seeing the confrontation between the young girl and her pimp, she rushed in.

* * *

_She stepped between the two, Killian immediately dropping Candy’s arm. The girl seemed so surprised and grateful as the older woman stepped between the two._

_“What’s going on?” Rebecca kept her voice sounding slightly amused as she looked over her shoulder at Candy then back to the man, “Domestic dispute?”_

_“This ain’t none of your business!” Killian barked at her, taken slightly aback at having a woman be at eye level with him, overcompensating instead by puffing his chest out._

_“You like beating up on girls, Killian?” Rebecca sneered at him, “I’ve heard about you, more of your girls ending up in the hospital than anyone else’s. You’re not compensating for something, are you?” she let her eyes trail down to Killian’s pants before smirking._

_“Why you little,” he made a move to back hand Rebecca._

_She caught him by the wrist a few inches form her face, “Big mistake.” She shook her head before bringing her foot up, thrusting it at Killian’s leg, she felt a crack radiate upwards as she connected with his knee._

_He cried out in pain as he fell to the pavement on his other knee, but before he could react, Rebecca swung her own hand, her knuckles breaking Killian’s already crooked nose, his head snapping to the side._

_He swayed for a minute before crumpling to the ground, groaning up to the street lights._

_“What the fuck?” his voice was nasally and blood was pouring down his cheeks._

_“Listen here, Zekey,” Rebecca put her heel into the dip between his collar bones, digging enough to make him choke, “I’m going t obe running here for a while. So if you see me, or one of my girls, you look the other way. Otherwise not only will I come back and kick your dumb ass, I’ll make sure to do it in front of those  powerful friends of yours. I mean, what’s worse? Getting your ass handed to you by a girl infront of the men who hold your balls in their hands, or giving up this little life of yours, hm? Retire somewhere nice with the money you’ve collected from your girls. I think you’re done.”_

_She spun on her toes and strode away._

_“Holy shit!” Candy scrambled to catch up with her, “You are a total bad ass!”_

_“Thanks,” Rebecca quircked an eyebrow._

_“So, um, are you, like new around here?” Candy dodged around other working girls, wishing people just moved out of her way like they seemd to for this woman she didn’t know, “What’s your name?”_

_“Becks,” Rebecca answered, figuring it was better to use her nickname, “And yeah, I decided to take my business elsewhere.”_

_“So, are you a working girl too, or…?”_

_“Listen,” Rebecca came to a sudden stop, turning to face the girl, “Candy, was it? Look, you ask a lot of questions, but since a beat down usually puts me in a good mood, I’ll answer yours. No, I don’t turn tricks. I run a service though. At least I used to. The girls who work for me, I’ll get them in better shape. They make more then those walking the streets, and they’ll have it a lot safer.”_

_“What, like a club?” Candy tilted her head._

_“Not yet,” Rebecca shrugged, “Like I said, I’m new to town. I have to build a base first. Recruit some girls. Hey, you wouldn’t know of any looking to change it up, would you?”_

_“Uh, I know I am!” Candy laughed, “Since you just told my guy to skip town, I can think of a few others who’ll be interested I think.”_

_“Fantastic,” Rebecca smiled, glad she could think on her feet this quickly, “Step into my office and we’ll go over the specifics…” She tilted her head towards the club they’d stopped in front of._

* * *

At some point during her recounting of the night, Leena and Claudia had joined them in the living room. Claudia was rumpled in her pajamas, but listening with rapt interest, hanging on to every word of Rebecca’s story. Leena sat, put together and ready for her day, with a small smile and the every so often shake of her head.

“Candy is right, you are a total bad ass.” Claudia declared, and Rebecca just shrugged.

They glanced up as Steve walked through the front door. He stood in the foyer for a moment, looking lost, before turning and joining the women in the, he grabbed a pillow as he collapsed on the couch, laying sideways and pulling his knees up in front of him, his head on Claudia’s lap. There was a haunted look in his eye as he stared off into space/

“Jinksy?” Claudia asked, brushing his short hair off his forehead, “Everything okay?”

He shook his head.

The women looked at one another, concern for their fellow agent dominate in them, “What happened?” Claudia asked softly.

“I had to,” he swallowed, “I had to tackle a guy…”

“And?” Now they were just confused, “Doesn’t that just come with the job?”

“He was two hundred pounds,” Steve continued, “And naked… and high on hallucinogens. He was all sweaty and… and…” Steve shook his head, “I think I hate my partner. She’s the devil, I know it.”

Claudia had to bite on her knuckle to keep the laughter from spilling over her lips, Rebecca was having a similar problem, pressing a pillow into her face to muffle the sounds. Abigale simply shook her head and turned to the next page of news.

Leena was the only one to show any sympathy, patting his head lovingly as she walked to the kitchen, “I’ll go make you some chocolate chip waffles.”

Rebecca struggled to her feet, “I am going to go take the world’s hottest shower, and then fall into bed.” She declared before moving for the stairs.

Jack was the next one to come home, he immediately fell into the chair Rebecca had vacated. He looked questioningly at Steve, opening his mouth to ask what the hell was wrong with him, but Claudia shook her head sharply at him, and Jack figured he was better off not knowing anyhow.

“So, Jackie Boy,” Claudia said instead, tilting her head at jack’s black eye, “How was your day, and if you beat Becks’ or Jinks’ stories, you get a gold star.”

Jack leaned forward a bit, reaching into his pants pocket, pulling out an untidy wad of cash, dropping them on the table between them, “Well, I sold all of my product, and I got my eye on someone to be my inside man.”

“And the, uh,” she gestured to his face.

“Oh, that’s how I met him,” Jack explained, “I was selling on his turf. We got into a scuffle, and when I kicked his ass, he decided maybe he and I were better being friends. I told him I was new to town, selling the last of my stash, but that I was looking for a new connect. He said he’d see what he could do.”

“How do guys do that?” Claudia shook her head, “How do you get in a full on fist fight with another dude, and both of you come out on the other side dude bros for life?”

Jack shrugged, smirking at the redhead, “Girls let their emotions get in the way of everything.”

“Wow, that,” Claudia shook her head, “That is the most misogynistic thing you’ve said this week.”

“And it’s only Wednesday,” he swiped his nails on his shirt before looking at them.

Their laughter was interrupted by the door opening once more.

Pete walked through the living room, wanting nothing more than to scarf down what ever food he could get his hands on.

Jack, Claudia, Abigale and Steve stared at him, slack jawed. He was half way through the living room before he notice the attention. He slowed to a stop, slowly lowering his foot to the ground.

“What?” He demanded.

“Dude is that glitter?” Claudia demanded, looking at the vast amounts of sparkles covering Pete’s black shirt.

“And you have some… paint on you.” Abigale added, eyeing the lip imprints made with effervescent paint decorating Pete’s neck.

“Dude,” Jack snorted, “What the hell happened to you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” His face flushed red as he hurried towards the kitchen, the room erupting in laughter behind him.

* * *

The only one who hadn’t trudged back to the B&B as soon as they were able was Myka, and that’s because she felt like she had some where better to be.

They were wiping down the counters in companionable silence. It was nearing five am, and the club had been closed for about thirty minutes. There were other people cleaning tables and the floor, but Emily didn’t trust anyone behind her bar. She knew where everything was, and it was exactly how she wanted it.

Cleaning the bar was a small price to pay for knowledge that no one would move anything. She had told Myka she could leave, but Myka smiled and asked her to hand over the other damp dish rag. They each started at opposite ends of the bar, slowly moving in ward.

“You did pretty well for your first night.” Emily spoke up when they were little more than two feet from each other.

“It was only an hour,” Myka shrugged, “And I think the fact that I didn’t drop anything with the only thing that makes it a success. I didn’t understand half the drink orders…”

“Whoa there, Myka,” Emily laughed, putting her hand on Myka’s arm, “First things first, my dear, you need to learn how to take a compliment.”

Myka blushed as she grinned adorably, “Right, I’ll be sure to work on that.”

“Until then, how about you and me go get some breakfast.” Myka was having trouble listening to what she was saying, far too distracted by the way Emily’s lips brushed against one another as they formed words.

“What?” Myka blinked, blaming her nonexistent attention span on her exhaustion.

Emily’s eye brow quirked as a salacious grin spread across her face, “You, me, a booth at the diner? You do eat breakfast where ever it is you’re from, right?”

“Breakfast?” Myka repeated back the word, “Yeah, of course.” She cleared her throat, her face growing hot.

“Aces,” Emily smiled before lifting the section of the counter on a hinge, “After you then.”

Myka was mentally kicking her own ass as she allowed Emily to lead her out of the bar. Myka blinked against the sun that she found waiting for them. She hadn’t thought to grab a pair of sunglasses before leaving, she honestly didn’t think the sun would be up before she got home.

Emily was distracted watching Myka adjust herself to the blinding light, her own ogling hidden behind her sunglasses. She had known Myka was beautiful from the moment she first lay eyes on her in the club. But that was in the dim, smoke filled club. Here in the daylight, Emily’s heart thumped a bit faster.

They walked to a diner Emily had never bothered to get the name of, but one that she had visited often, having become attached to the routine it afforded her.

“This place looks a bit different in the daylight,” Myka commented as she looked around, watching taxies and cars blur past at speeds she knew could not be legal.

“Of course, wouldn’t want the reputation of this respectable business city to be sullied by drunkards.” Emily grumbled, and Myka could sense real heat behind the words, “So while the officials allow a bit of leniency while the sun is down, when it comes back up, everyone is expected to play their parts.”

“How long have you lived here?” Myka asked, trying ot pin point where all the animosity was coming from.

“I moved here from Wisconsin eight years ago,” Emily got a faraway look in her eye for a moment, the smile still plastered on her face no longer reaching her eyes.

“That explains the funny accent.” As soon as the words came out of Myka’s mouth she wanted to take them back with a shotgun.

“Funny accent?” Humor returned to Emily’s face as she smirked at Myka, “You think I have a funny accent?”

“Well, yeah.” She rubbed the back of her neck, feeling the heat spread over her face, “I mean, I couldn’t quite place it, it’s so different than what I’m used to hearing.”

“Oh? And to where do I attribute your _funny accent_ ,” She mimicked Myka’s voice.

Myka laughed, but she scrambled to remember her cover, “I’m, uh, Canadian.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” Emily laughed.

Myka shrugged, taking the joke as retaliation for her pointing out Emily’s accent, “Hey, it happens to the best of us.”

They were still chuckling when they arrived at the small, retro styled diner, and Myka held the door out for her companion this time.

The hostess greeted Emily by her name, something Myka made note of, there was real fondness from the older woman as they smiled through pleasantries. They were brought to a back booth, the hostess leaving to get them coffee.

Before Myka could open her mouth to start a new conversation, a man dressed in a busboy uniform, compete with a grey tub half filled with dishes, stopped by the table.

“Hey, uh, Emily?” He was smiling, but something about the way his grey eyes darted from Myka back to Emily, the slight waver in his voice, made the greeting come out sounding like a question, “Didn’t think I’d see ya today.”

“Wolly,” Emily smiled up at him.

“Who’s your, er, friend?” He smiled down at Myka, and it was an infectious grin that Myka reciprocated easily.

“Wolly, this is Myka,” Emily sighed, realizing no matter how long she glared, the man wouldn’t take the hint and walk away, “Myka, this is my friend, Wolly.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Myka offered her hand to the busboy.

Wolly wiped his hands on the apron strung around his waist before shaking Myka’s hand, “Pleasure’s mine.”

“You are absolutely gorgeous,” Wolly spoke brazenly, “How is it you become acquainted with our… Emily?”

“Wolly,” Emily snapped, “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“Right, then, hint taken,” Wolly nodded and stepped back, “I’ll see you later Em. Myka, I do hope to see you around.” He winked.

“I’m sorry,” Emily turned to her, “He’s…”

“English,” Myka tilted her head, as she watched him leave. There hadn’t been much international travel to the United States in the last ten years, it had become rather odd to run into someone who wasn’t American in everyday activity.

“I did notice,” Emily smirked, a hidden joke in her eyes, “I was going to say best friend, though. Boundaries tend to be ignored by Wolly.”

“I know the feeling well,” Myka nodded, thinking of her own friends, “I moved here with a few friends, and none of them seem to respect the sanctity of a closed door.”

“Tell me Myka,” Emily leaned forward, “How on earth did you end up in Univille, South Dakota?”

“I…” Myka took a breath, “I made a few mistakes, mistakes that were quickly catching up to me. And I had to get out, start fresh.”

“See, I knew you were too perfect,” Emily laughed, “I see your flaw is a dark past then?”

“Something like that.” Myka took a sip from her coffee, needing a barrier suddenly between her and Emily’s searching eyes.

“ _C'est la vie_ ,” Emily shrugged before relaxing back into the chair, “But I see your past is a touchy subject, so let’s do the small talk madness through our breakfast instead.”

“I’ll give it a shot,” Myka nodded with a smile, “Small talk has never been my strong suit.” She admitted.

“Nonsense.” She waved a hand, “Where shall we start…”

They spent the next hour talking, without realizing much time was passing at all. Plates disappeared, and drinks were refilled all without notice. They spoke about inconsequential things, nothing of great importance by anyone’s standards. But it was still the best conversation Myka could remember having in a long time. And, as promised, all topics concerning their pasts were avoided.

 _Not really a bad first date…_ Myka found herself thinking before ohysically shaking the thoughts from her head.

No, she couldn’t get involved with Emily, not as more than a friend or boss. She had a job to do. And even if she was one of those people who could easily juggle their relationship and work, then came the decision on whether Myka would tell her just what she really did for a living? How much would she tell her, if at all? Would she be willing to put that on another person?

She really had to stop this thing before it got started. She couldn’t let herself get lost in the dark eyes watching her with so much curiosity and humor. She couldn’t let herself daydream about running her hands through the long dark locks that now cascaded around her shoulders. She _had_ to stop watching Emily’s lips move so intently while imagining what they tasted like…

Myka suddenly stood up from the booth.

“Is everything alright?” Emily pulled back, started at the flash of panic in Myka’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Myka made a show of stretching, “I just… I’ve been up far too long. I need to get home and get to sleep if I’m going to be at work on time. My new boss seems like a real hard ass.” She smiled as Emily too stood up, pulling several bills from her back pocket and dropping them on the table.

“I’m sure you want to impress your boss.” Emily allowed, her smile a bit sad now that their time together was coming to an end.

Wolly waved from the back as Myka and Emily stepped out. Myka returned the wave shyly, suppressing a yawn. Now that she mentioned sleep, she seemed to realize _just_ how tired she actually was.

They stood facing each other for a moment in front of the diner, neither really knowing how to leave this, “I suppose I’ll see you tonight then?” Emily offered the nervous looking Myka.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” Myka nodded, taking a step back, refusing to give in to the urge to kiss Emily right then as she smirked, “Bye.” She gave an awkward wave, that Emily found unbearably adorable, before quickly turning on her heel and walking away.

“Myka,” Emily called out, waiting for her to turn to face her once more, “Come by the club an hour or so before it opens. That way it’ll be just me and you. So I can show you a thing or two behind the bar.” She winked before continuing on her way.

“I am in so much trouble,” Myka groaned to herself, unable to take her eyes off Emily’s retreating figure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I shamelessly use my favorite Panic! At The Disco song title as well as The Offspring.


	12. Little Sister is Watching

A month into their undercover operations had done weird things to the agents. They told the same lies over and over, began adapting speech patterns, mannerisms, and style.

The first thing to go was any hope of a normal sleep pattern for the five field agents and the techie that spent nearly twenty four hours a day watching their bio-feeds to make sure they were okay.

Claudia never slept- left over habit from her stint in the loony bin that the Regents had liberated her from. Apparently, accusing the mob that ran the territory you are in of murdering most of your family was insanity. Claudia could see how that could be construed as a death wish, but she wasn’t suffering from psychosis like they claimed she was.

“ _Why, Ms. Donovan, would Manifestus conspire to kill anybody, much less_ your _family? What makes you so special? The answer is noting. These… delusions of grandeur you are having, they are a symptom of a bigger issue that we at the Meadows are going to help you with….”_

The mistrust that had been born into Claudia in the eight years she was tossed from one foster family to the next was only further solidified over the four years that she had been receiving… treatment at the Meadows.

A few months away from the place wasn’t enough to change anything substantial. She didn’t sleep, because she was afraid that if she opened her eyes in the morning, she would wake back in that place, strapped down with the five point restraints, the only thing to look forward to was the thrill of correctly guessing if today would be electroshock, hydro therapy or chemical adjustment.

Rather than face that anxiety nightly, she spent the evening hours, alternating between watching what Myka was doing and what Steve was doing, sparing a glance every now and then to Pete, Rebecca and Jack. Steve was her best friend and she worried about him the most, throwing himself in harm’s way every evening for the sake of a cover. And Myka’s own nights were much more interesting than the others. Sure, drug dealing, glorified baby sitting and prostitution rings had their moments, but the things her bartender saw and heard on a nightly basis made everyone else seem damn right pedestrian.

Jack was becoming a regular face on Junkie Road, slowly making a name for himself. His connect, a shifty looking, in-denial heroin addict, who had begun using from his own stash, had come through for him. Introducing him to the smaller players in the game, and a third hand distributor. But as he became more and more popular stop, he gained his own block, and a deceptively legit business card, the number on which directed him to a second had distributor.

He didn’t know it, but he was getting attention from some big names. His jacket had been run by several different people, and Claudia had traced them back to Walter Sykes business tower that stood erect in the middle of the city, dwarfing everything around it.

She didn’t tell Jack he had extra eyes on him. She didn’t want him to start acting differently than he was and draw attention to himself in a bad way.

Claudia was writing a program in her spare time that would back hack whoever searched any of her agent’s names and gave her free, undetectable access to their hard drives.

“The Becks” show was a bit more enthralling for the younger redhead. Rebecca had completely adopted the role of mother hen of the prostitutes. The men and women who left their pimps to work for her instead were better paid, had more protections, and health benefits.

Rebecca had to hire her own private security to look out for her and hers. One of the men stayed with her at all times, ever since the latest attempt on her life. It was dangerous business taking someone’s source of income away, but Rebecca was gaining her own reputation as a woman who took no shit and could handle her own in a brawl with just about anybody.

Sykes was watching her too, though he was _personally_ watching her, while he had his men watching Jack. He was wondering what it would take to get her to work for him. She was taking a lot of his income from the girls his own men had been running. But she was, somehow, making more of a profit than he had been, so he wasn’t going to take her out. At least not yet. Not if he couldn’t get her for himself.

Claudia saw that he was looking into buying a place on the club strip, and she figured he was looking into turning it into a “Gentlemen’s Club”, since everyone on the streets knew that’s what Becks was working towards.

Now that Sykes had a carrot to dangle in front of Rebecca, less people were threatening her, and her life became vicariously boring for Claudia.

Pete had become a glorified babysitter for some bimbo blonde one week into the job. He had been doing security at Curiosity, and that had been kind of fun for the bored hacker, watching people make fools of themselves as they drank round after round of colorful drinks. Drama unfolded no matter where Pete was standing.

That’s how he got put onto another detail.

Making his rounds around the club, he’d seen the blonde enter, and begin the night with her two friends. She was beautiful, and on the dance floor, more than one person was vying for her attention. There was one particular man, greasy hair, skeevy smile, who was turned away again and again by her.

Taking a break at the bar, her two friends left to greet someone they had seen across the dance floor. She bought herself a drink, just before the determined man sought her out once more.

Pete couldn’t hear over the pounding baseline pouring from the subwoofers what was being said, but he could see just fine. He wasn’t watching her in particular, there was just something about her that kept drawing his eye.

From his vantage point on the catwalk, he saw the man get denied, harshly. And as Pete laughed to himself and shook his head, at the flip of her hair, he saw the guy slip something into her drink the moment her attention was diverted by someone bumping into her.

He held his hands, like he was conceding defeat, and stepped away. She rolled her eyes and threw back the remainder of her drink, before returning to the dance floor. He followed close behind like a shark, waiting for another moment of weakness.

Pete rushed down to the main floor as quickly as possible, but it hadn’t been fast enough. By the time he was in the throngs of intoxicated twenty year olds, he could see only that she was exiting out the side door, with the assistance of the douche bag with the chin strap, she seemed to be having difficulty remaining upright.

He shoved people out of the way, receiving quite a few disgruntled shouts and some obscene gestures, but he ignored them, asking SARA for help finding another way out of the club. She quickly spouted off directions in his head, leading him down the path of least resistance to a fire exit.

“Some on should really check that.” Pete mumbled when the alarm didn’t go off after he burst into the alley.

He heard a faint sound of a woman protesting and a man telling her to be quiet. Pete ran to the end of the alley, ignoring the fact that he was stepping in mysterious puddles while wearing the ridiculously expensive shoes he’d found in the wardrobe.

The creepy guy and the blonde woman had just stumbled their way past the mouth of the alley when he reached the end.

“Hey!” Pete barked, “What do you think you’re doing?”

The man spun around, his lip twitching, “Stay out of it. This is none of your concern.”

The woman was swaying dangerously, a hand shooting out to catch herself on the wall. The distance it put between her and her would be assailant was enough that Pete felt comfortable moving forward without the fear of hurting her.

“Wrong move,” The guy shook his head, pulling out a gun.

The man assumed Pete was some douche bag with a hero complex, someone who would back down easily, quickly when really threatened.

“Now, now, Michael,” Pete tsked as soon as SARA got back to him with a name, “If you’re going to threaten someone with one of these,” He grabbed Michael’s hand, his other hand quickly coming up to snap his wrist.

The gun, now safely in Pete’s hand, was turned on the assailant, “You should really turn the safety off.” Pete demonstrated by flipping the small switch.

Rather than pull the trigger, Pete brought the butt of the gun down on Michael’s temple, and watched as the man crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Pete dismantled the gun without giving it much thought, he put his hands up to show the scared looking woman that he wasn’t a threat as he slowly stepped towards her.

“You’re alright,” he nodded slowly, “It’s okay, can you tell me your name?”

The blonde licked her lips, working to focus her glazed over eyes on Pete, “Amanda.”

Just as she spoke her name, a black SUV came to a squealing halt on the curb behind them. Two men came out, guns drawn and aimed at Pete.

“Drop it!” One of the men yelled, and Pete complained, “On your knees! I said on your knees!” he continued.

“These are my nice pants!” Pete complained, but got down on his knees, knowing this routine well, he crossed his ankles and interlaced his fingers behind his head.

Once they decided Pete was no longer a threat, one of the men approached him with flex cuffs and a black bag while the other worriedly looked over a dazed looking Amanda.

Pete was cuffed, blindfolded, and thrown into the back of the SUV, and driven to an empty office building. The woman he saved sat beside him, the men driving ignoring her pleas to listen to reason.

“I guess no good deed goes unpunished.” Pete mumbled before feeling a hand go to his knee.

“It’ll be okay.” Amanda’s words were slurring, and Pete knew it was a miracle that the woman was still upright.

One of the Men led Pete through a series of hallways before sitting him roughly down on a metal chair. They removed the bag from over Pete’s head, he blinked in the harsh lights as he took in his surroundings.

Desks were pushed to the sides, allowing a wide space for five men to stand in front of Pete, glaring down at him in the chair.

“I think we’ve had a misunderstanding.” Pete began, and when there was no response from the men, he began explaining what had happened, glossing over the bit about the AI in his head assisting him.

It was when he finished his story that a man stepped forward from behind the wall of muscle. The dark hair and grey eyes coupled with the deep frown were intimidating, even while the heavily muscled men around them dwarfed him.

“My name is Nate Watkins,” He spoke gruffly as he crossed his arms over his chest, “I am in charge of a few affairs pertaining to a certain powerful man. He has quite a few enemies, so one of my duties is to hire body guards and security for him and anything he deems worthy of protection.  So can you explain to me why Miss Martin needed protection from a club bouncer when I handpicked the man who was supposed to be watching her?”

“Hey man,” Pete shrugged, “I didn’t see any guy with Amanda besides the kid I knocked unconscious. She was with two other girls, but I didn’t see a body guard. All I saw was Michael slip her something and then try to take her from the club.”

“You work for Justin Hall, right?” Nate tilted his head expectantly.

Pete nodded once.

“That means you work for me,” He informed him, “And as of now, consider yourself reassigned. You’re no longer going to be working in Curiosity. Your main, and _only_ , priority will be Miss Martin’s safety.”

“Wait…” Pete shook his head.

“And Mr. Lattimer, if you should have a slip up like her _former_ bodyguard had tonight. You will become personally acquainted with our company’s severance package…”

Since then, Pete has had to follow Amanda around everywhere she went, and most of the time he was bored out of his mind- the rest of the time, he was trying not to kill the body he was tasked with protecting.

Amanda loathed having to be babysat day in and day out. She was a socialite, and having the ever present hulking dude in a black t shirt was a downer. Her appreciation at being saved was short lived, and then began the game of trying to ditch Pete whenever she went out.

It never worked. So from the time she woke up until she stumbled into bed at night, Pete was there, butting heads with her.

“She is a spoiled brat,” Pete ranted to Myka and Rebecca, both of whom looked like they were about to pass out themselves after a long night’s work, “I don’t understand _why_ she is so important! Why does she need a body guard! How am I supposed to do my job when I’m stuck babysitting every day! And why does she have to make it so god damn difficult? God, I cannot stand her!”

Rebecca and Myka exchanged a look before breaking out in identical grins.

“You totally like her!” Myka laughed.

“What?” Pete blanched, “No, aren’t you listening? She’s a spoiled rotten graduate student who has absolutely no regard for her own safety, and-“

“Awwwww!” Rebecca sing-songed, “Come on Pete, just admit you think she’s cute.”

“Yeah, she’s attractive,” Pete allowed, blushing, “But that’s out-weighed by her entitled attitude, just who does she think she is? No, I hate her.”

“Me thinks the lad doth protest too much.” Myka stage whispered to Rebecca, and they both burst into laughter, “You like her, Pete. It’s so adorable!”

They broke into a course of  “Pete and Amanda sitting in a tree.”

“Fuck you guys,” Pete was blushing furiously as he turned on his heel, “I’m never telling you guys anything ever again. I’m just gonna go talk to Steve and Claudia.” His childish departure had them dissolving into giggles once more.

Steve was taking to his role as a police officer surprisingly well.

After his first week of being hazed by his slightly psychotic partner, Steve actually enjoyed the work he was doing undercover, finally able to put his annoying ability to tell when someone is lying to good use, and Sally Stokowski could no longer complain about having a partner when they helped close more cases than any other team.

He was, in Claudia’s opinion, taking his under-cover assignment far too seriously. He seemed to be forgetting that he was supposed to be investigating the police department, not making it look good by increasing their arrest and conviction rates.

His ego had become inflated, something Claudia was quick to correct by reminding him that all the arrests he made were petty criminals, none of which seemed to have a connection to the Brotherhood. 

It didn’t stop him from throwing himself into danger every shift he worked, and Claudia was starting to grow concerned with the relationship building between Steve and his partner.

“If I didn’t know better, Jinksy,” She said to him one day while icing his bruised knuckles, “I’d think you had a thing for Sally.

Steve scoffed, “She’s not exactly my type Claud,” he reminded her, “But she is my partner, and spending so much time with her was either going to result in one of our deaths, or our friendship. And I, for one, am glad we chose the friendship route.”

It still gave Claudia the heebee geebees seeing them so chummy through his bio-feed, but she bit her tongue and made a note to keep a close eye on Sally Stokowski.

Claudia was fond of all the agents, her new surrogate family as they often referred to themselves as, and she worried not just for the undercover field agents, but those working for the labs and investigation teams.

However, she only had two eyes, and often found them wandering to the screens belonging to Myka Bering.

She was supposed to be sleeping her way up the mob ladder, and to be fair, she was entertaining a few of the lower level guys involved, but her main focus was working the bar at Instinct, and that proved to be far more useful.

There are some things that are so private and personal, you can only share them with your best friend, or therapist… or the bartender, four shots in.

That alone was like some daytime soap opera that Claudia found weirdly addictive. Then you had to add Emily Lake. It was better than television. She even began to make popcorn before watching the madness ensue.

Myka was falling into her role as a bartender surprisingly well. It didn’t hurt that she was super attractive, her and Emily sold more drinks than any other bar in town. And where there is alcohol, there is unintentional confessions.

People complaining about their long days working for mysterious bosses at the Sykes building and MacPherson Complex. Myka heard all about current projects that the two patriarchs were working on. Something about a new escort club, a few cops getting hand cuff happy, an increase in “product” output, and something about MacPherson making heads roll when someone named Amanda was attacked at another club.

People spoke without thinking about how many secrets they were sharing. To them, their war stories served to entertain the new bartender, who was more than willing to entertain the tales of a few drunks.

Emily would roll her eyes and make a few quick remarks in regards to whatever new information had been shared with Myka, and the undercover agent would have to bite her cheek to keep herself from laughing.

Their flirting was painfully obvious to anyone watching, well except perhaps one thick headed man.

 _Kurt Smoller_ , Claudia grimaced as she watched Myka’s screens.

It had been a slow night at Instinct. Well, as slow as it ever got on a Tuesday night at the club, meaning the bar wasn’t completely swamped the entire night. Myka and Emily had a few minutes reprieve from demanding voices and repetitive complaints.

“I can’t believe you sometimes,” Emily shook her head at Myka as she finished wiping another spilled beer off the counter.

“What do you mean?” Myka asked, suddenly nervous. Was she talking about Myka’s cover? Or her actions as a bartender? Had she finally done something to piss off Emily? It was only a matter of time, it was a miracle she kept the friends she had. Myka should feel so worried about it, she was _supposed_ to be focusing on recon, not being friends with the achingly beautiful bartender.

She swallowed her panic when she realized Emily had a smile on her face, “I don’t understand how you can stand to listen to the drabble that comes pouring out of their mouths sometimes.”

“They’re not so bad.” Myka rolled her eyes at Emily.

“Please!” Emily snorted, “That last one was complaining to you about his sexual fantasies getting out of hand!”

“Like you’ve never wanted to have sex on a bar.” Myka rolled her eyes, before realizing that she had actually said that out loud.

Emily’s eyebrow quirked and her lips seemed to be fighting a smile, stepping closer to her, “Well, now that you mention it,” she let her eyes trace slowly up Myka’s frame, pausing on her favorite parts of the other women. They were mere inches apart now, and Myka was having trouble breathing as her heart spiked, “I _have_ quite recently begun to-,”

“Mykes!” a voice interrupted from behind where Myka was leaning on the corner, causing both women to jerk apart and blush.

Across town at her computer hub, Claudia jumped to her feet, yelling at her computer screen that that did _not_ just happen when they had been so close!

Myka clenched her teeth before turning around, already recognizing the voice before she was met with the dimpled smile of Kurt Smoller, “Hey, Kurt.” She nodded, leaning on to the counter.

“Wow, Myka,” he let his eyes trace over Myka’s visible body, a low cut black shirt not leaving much to the imagination, “Every time I see you, you are hotter than the last.”

“We’re working Kurt.” Emily snapped from where she had moved down the bar to fill another order.

Kurt opened his mouth, a hard glint to his eye as he focused on the senior bartender, but Myka spoke before he had a chance, “What can I get for you Kurt?”

“How’s about… an Adios?” he had no idea what was in it, but he had heard someone order it earlier, and saw that it took longer than some of the other drinks to make.

“Sure thing.” Myka smiled politely, though she was angry at him for interrupting her conversation. He had an annoying habit of doing that almost nightly while Emily was talking with her.

“And while you’re at it, you could get me your number.” Kurt said, rather smoothly he thought, as he leaned further onto the counter.

Myka swallowed the bile that threatened to rise, so that when she turned back to face Kurt, ingredients in hand, she gave a polite smile and small shake of her head, “I don’t date customers, Kurt.”

“ _I feel the need to remind you that is exactly what you’re supposed to be doing._ ” MARLE mumbled in her head, “ _He’s involved with the Brotherhood, Myka. You don’t have to like it, but you need to do it._ ”

“Aw, come on.” Kurt smiled up at her.

“Like I said,” Myka finished the drink with a flourish, “I don’t date customers.” She slipped back into her persona with force as she grabbed a napkin and a pen, “So you are going to have to stop buying drinks from me.” She scribbled her mobile number on the napkin before sliding it and the drink to Kurt who had a stunned look on his face as Myka winked at him.

He took the drink and napkin and retreated into the club before he could test his luck further.

Myka dreaded turning around, not wanting to see whatever was waiting behind her, but she was doing a job. She didn’t have room to feel… what was it she was feeling? Guilty? For flirting with Kurt in front of Emily? That was crazy.

And yet when she did turn and see the angry flash in Emily’s eyes as the bartender crossed her arms over her chest, she did feel sick. Like she needed to explain herself. Instead, she found herself giving a conspiratorial grin and half shrug of her shoulder.

“It’s been too long since _I_ got to act out, he could be a nice distraction I suppose.” She kept her tone light.

“Myka, he’s in the mob,” Emily tilted her head, confusion and anger and disbelief marring her expression.

“Em, the Brotherhood, or whatever MacPherson and his boys call themselves,” Myka waved off handedly, “They don’t seem too bad. I mean sure, their actions are a little questionable at times. But I think that ultimately they are doing good here. A lot better than the other _powers that be_.” She spoke with a faux ominous tone before cracking a smile.

“Aren’t you worried about it being dangerous,” Emily uncrossed her arms, her expression wholly unreadable now, “Being involved with someone… connected that way.”

Myka felt her insides twist slightly, but she forced herself to remain nonchalant, “Actually, I think it’s better to be involved with someone who’s connected rather than risk being on the outs with them. I mean, look where I’ve ended up with the last people I pissed off.” She mumbled, trailing off.

She looked back up at Emily, seeing concern there, and she realized she said more then she probably should have, she was quick to smile up at her friend, “Besides, Kurt’s hardly important enough to be a threat, right?”

“You’re right.” Emily seemed to suddenly perk up, “He must be quite low on the totem pole of sorts, right?”

“Uh, yeah?” Myka was having trouble following the woman’s emotional roller-coaster, “I mean he doesn’t seem to have much pull outside of being a font of information.” Myka rolled her eyes for Emily’s benefit, “But he could be a pretty good distraction regardless. I mean clearly he works out so…” Myka trailed off, unable to even complete the thought as digust threatened to take over.

“Right.” Emily’s jaw flared once more before she forced a smile, “Good luck with that then.”

“Hey, Em?” Myka reached out, grabbing the other bartenders arm to stop her from turning away from her, “Do you maybe wanna hang out? With me?” she clarified, feeling ridiculous about beign so nervous, “I mean, outside of the club?”

Emily smiled brightly, causing Myka’s stomach to flip, “I’d really like that, Myka.”

“Fucking Kurt.” Claudia grumbled as she threw herself back into her chair.


	13. Wells

The thrumming beat of the club was incessant, annoying, like a bug flying too close to his ear, and no matter how often he swat at it, it went right on.

But, James supposed, it served its purpose, drowning out their voices before they had a chance to reach anyone outside of their booth in the back of the club. He had to admit, out of all of his clubs, Instinct was by far, the most tolerable.

He probably had HG to thank for that, not that he would ever mention such a thing, that was an ego far too large as it was.

Empires had risen and fallen at the scuffed table he sat at, it gave him a trill of excitement as he and Walter planned out their next big. They always met at this table if they could help it, superstitious might have been putting it lightly. Perhaps it was only because this was undoubtedly the single establishment in their steadily expanding city that they could trust.

“I can see this little venture spreading far beyond one simple gentlemen’s club,” Walter went on, wrist moving in a circular motion that seemed to be absent minded, clinking the ice in his amber colored drink, “I’m telling you Jimmy, if we can get this Becks woman on our pay role, we could shut down the prostitutes, make us look legit… we should have done this a long time ago, to be honest.”

“Walter,” James set his gin down after a long drink, “If I have told you once I have told you a hundred times, do _not_ call me Jimmy.”

Nate bit back a chuckle, hiding it under a cough as his boss leveled a glare at his partner.

It was Nate’s job to be seen, not heard, and MacPherson was always quick to remind him of that. Marcus, Sykes’ own personal guard, leveled a glare at him. Both men had been with the Brotherhood since the beginning, they were part of the few who knew the three leaders personally, who considered, and protected them as they would their own family.

Well, perhaps better than their own family, if the stories were true. Marcus had no family to speak of, and Nate would have been better off an orphan.

They stood at attention, facing away from their bosses as they watched the lights flash over the drunken patrons of Instinct, watching for any sign of trouble. So far there was only the random, alcohol fueled fight, nothing the club security couldn’t handle.

Then, as if summoned by the mere thought that the night was going smother than expected, a lithe form, sheathed in a slim black dress and killer heels, sashayed before them. She smiled wickedly, flipping back her hair, nearly black in the dim lighting, and crossing her arms over her chest.

She was short, no that you could tell with the six inch heels, but she was dwarfed still standing beside Marcus and Nate, but the gleam in her brown eyes and sharp smirk had them both shifting nervously. Partly because of what the presence of this woman meant, but most because of her own presence.

“Boys,” She smiled, allowing her eyes to drag over each of them slowly.

“Clair,” They both mumbled in greeting.

“Wells has requested their presence in the back, if you’ll be so kind as to inform them.” She tilted her head, her voice dripping with honey, completely aware of how she was effecting the other body guards.

They both nodded mutely at the intimidating woman. As she turned on her heel and strode away with more confidence and grace than should be held by someone of her status, they had to force themselves to not let their eyes wander over her legs and ass, having learned the first time they allowed that to happen.

Clair didn’t take too kindly to their gawking, quickly proving why Wells had chosen her as her go to girl for everything from personal security and errand girl, to assassin for higher.

While Marcus and Nate were lackeys through and through, Clair was almost an equal to the infamous HG Wells. A position no one was suicidal enough to question.

They each turned around to stamp out any further temptation, bending to speak quietly to their bosses to relay the message.

Sykes and MacPherson were both standing nearly immediately. They needed to speak to Wells about several things, but the third head of the Brotherhood was almost always suspiciously unavailable. To have Wells request _their_ presence was an opportunity they couldn’t pass up.

A path was cleared around the edge of the dance floor, not wanting to draw attention to their presence here. This only remained a safe place if people were unaware of their preference for the place.

They came to a stop at a door on the second level, currently under the guard of an impatient looking Clair, tapping one high heeled foot as she glanced down at the rather industrial watch she had on. Her boss was under a bit of a time constraint, and Clair would never hear the end of it if Sykes and MacPherson dragged it out longer than necessary.

They walked in, taking in their surroundings, never before being privileged with a look into their aloof partner’s private office. Sure, they used Wells’ club often, but the office was another chance to look into that dark mind often hidden behind smirks and deadly glares.

The office was well furnished with dark, warm colors. Two large leather chairs facing a wide, dark cherry wood desk adorned with different, half dismantled projects and a rustic type writer Wells favored.

“Please, have a seat,” the lilting voice invited, a hand waving from behind the large office chair, the back of which was facing them as it’s occupant looked out the two way mirror over the now muted throngs of intoxicated patrons.

Walter and James exchanged a wary look as they each took one of the leather chairs facing the desk, their guards standing behind them, hands resting on holstered weapons out of habit. Clair smirked at them as she too moved to stand at her bosses elbow as the chair spun in a slow circle.

“You rang, HG?” James smiled at her, he was fond of the woman, but also wary, “Or are you Emily right now?”

Her gaze focused on the glass of red wine in her hand, watching the crimson color swirl and settle, “I did, and HG is fine. Sorry if I was intruding, I would just like to speak with you both away from prying eyes.” She knew she was using more words than necessary, but she couldn’t help it. Faking that awful American accent for hours on end was its own form of torture.

 “Clearly it must be important,” Sykes smiled now, the expression not quite reaching his eyes, which still darted form Clair’s predatory smile and HG’s careful emotionless mask, “To have pulled you away from the bar, I mean. Why you insist working back there is beyond me, you are one of the most powerful people in the city.”

“One?” HG quirked her eyebrow as she considered this for a moment, “Well, I do value my anonymity, and should I wish it to continue without boring myself, I have to keep up appearances. Besides, it _does_ give me eyes and ears in the city…”

“I just mean, you left Wolcott in charge of the bar, that’s daring.” Sykes was scrambling to gain footing in this meeting, the whole atmosphere throwing him off, even though HG was technically his equal, the Brit made him nervous. It was only made worse when HG leveled her dark eyes at him in a glare.

“I’m sure what he’s saying, Helena,” James cut in, his familiar use of her first name redirecting her attention, “That our dear Wolly doesn’t hold the same attraction value to your customers as you yourself, or your other bartender have.”

“Where is your other bartender?” Sykes tilted his head, sparing a glance over HG’s shoulder to the young man alone behind the bar, “This is the first night since she started I haven’t seen her.”

The idea that Sykes had noticed Myka at all had her stomach turning unpleasantly, her teeth biting down on the inside of her cheek to keep her from scowling, “This is the reason for our meeting, actually. So I am glad you’ve seen fit to bring Ms. Bering up. She requested the night off.”

“HG, you can’t ask us to kill every employee who asks for personal time,” James rolled his eyes.

“That’s hardly the reason I’ve found for this meeting,” HG’s jaw muscles fluttered as she counted to ten in her head, “She happens to be on a date with one of yours, James.” He eyes flashed dangerously.

“And you think she is a threat?” she suddenly had their attention.

“Not at all,” HG took a sip of her drink, allowing the bitterness to roll over her tongue as she fought for control over her emotions. She seemed to have difficulty when it came to Myka Bering. The woman had come out of nowhere, catching Helena completely off guard in the best possible way.

“She’s out tonight with one of your glorified errand boys, Smoller,” She continued, her expression hardening once more as she had to say the words aloud, “And I would like for that to stop.”

“Let me get this straight,” James leaned forward, elbows on knees, “You want me to call Kurt off his date with this attractive woman, simply because, what, your bartender?”

“I like to keep things that are mine, _mine_ ,” HG set her glass down, rising to her feet so she stood over her partners, “So you will call your dog to heel and put a leash on him, or I will put him down.”

Marcus and Nate both took a step forward at the threat, but Clair was suddenly behind them, a hand on each of their necks, stepping backwards with them, “Let’s let Mom have the floor, shall we?” she was shockingly strong, and both men found themselves paralyzed, partly from fear, partly because of the pressure point she was currently gripping.

“Not that it would be a loss, honestly,” HG went on as if their security didn’t exist, straightening as she walked to the window, facing away from them once more, her high heeled boots clicking on the wood floor, and much like earlier where their security was involved, both men found themselves pointedly looking elsewhere besides on that of their sharply dressed counterpart.

“He’s no one important,” She smirked as she turned back around to them.

“Kurt is by no means someone I trust implicitly with all of the inner workings of Univille or the Brotherhood,” MacPherson allowed, “But I’ve been grooming him, and he does as he’s told, why shouldn’t I allow him this reward? She is quite attractive, is she not, Walter? This Meeka?”

“Myka,” HG snapped to correct, the venom in her voice nearly enough to kill, “And you will tell him to stay away from her or so help me, James-,”

“Alright, alright,” MacPherson put his hands him in a pacifying gesture, a small smile playing on his pale lips, “I’ll have Kurt leave your little crush alone-,”

“Good,” HG nodded.

“ _If_ ,” James went on, “If you put your stamp of approval on some of the projects we’ve been working on, not to mention actually meeting with some of our more high profile supporters.”

They both expected her to huff, roll her eyes and decline. MacPherson was going to call Kurt off regardless of what Wells said, the woman was more that slightly psychotic, and her loyalty and happiness meant more to him than the sometimes useful thug they were talking about. But to his surprise, she nodded easily.

“Fine,” She swallowed, “What projects?”

James and Walter exchanged a long look, surprise and happiness vying for spots.

Clair, sensing her boss’ shift in mood, released Marcus and Nate easily, and walked back around to the opposite side of the desk as HG sat in her chair once more, crossing her legs, visibly relaxing after getting what she wanted.

“First of all, your security guys,” MacPherson began, “They employed a new guy to work the clubs. Long story short, I am going to need you to sign his contract over to me.”

“Which one,” She nodded to Clair who strode over to the wall of filing cabinets.

“An ex mercenary, Pete something or other,” he waved his hand.

“Ah,” HG smiled darkly, giving a small affirmative gesture to Clair, “This is about Amanda’s little mishap. Your own security failed to protect her, then? You really should be more careful, James. You only have one daughter.”

James grimaced while HG affixed her signature to several documents.

“Well,” She allowed, tilting her head slightly, “That we know of.” She smiled innocently as she handed the contract over to James.

“We also need your endorsement to open a gentlemen’s club,” Walter spoke up to break the crackling tension that suddenly filled the room, “It’s an attempt to legitimize an… escort service.”

“You’re referring to your mistresses of the night, correct?” HG fixed her gaze on the blonde man, “I did hear about the new player swooping in and stealing all your business. What do you need me for?”

“We plan to approach her with an offer soon, if she doesn’t take with us, we figured….” Walter trailed off, scratching the back of his shoulder.

“That I could use our common gender to sway her before you revert to brute force?” Helena supplied as she took another sip of wine, “Keep me appraised, I’ll see what I can do. Is that all?”

James and Walter looked to one another once more before deciding to not push their luck, “For now.” They allowed.

“Good, you can see yourselves out,” She waved them off, “I do have a business to run. Oh, and James?” she called when they were about to exit, “Be quick about that phone call.”

“Of course, love.” He nodded.

After they left, Clair sat at the edge of the desk, facing her boss and friend, crossing her ankles and allowing them to swing slightly, “So, this Myka…”

Helena lifted an eyebrow slowly as she looked up at Clair, “What of her?”

“You really like her, huh?” she smiled, “Don’t get me wrong, it’s quite adorable seeing how she gets you all flustered and awkward.”

“Adorable?” HG scoffed at her, rolling her eyes, “Please, Ms. Donovan, I am the leader of the strongest mob in the states. I am a criminal mastermind and a cold blooded killer, if you believe the rumors, of course. Adorable is not a word often applied to me.”

Clair simply shrugged. Her smile growing, “yeah, but they don’t know you like I do.” She hopped off the desk, “I am happy for you, Hel. I hope this works out for you.”

She started to exit, needing to make her rounds of the club, but HG’s voice stopped her, “Would you mind… keeping an eye on her for a few days?”

Clair looked at her boss once more, watching the way she worried her lower lip between teeth, the unadulterated look of concern in her eyes, and Clair thawed out of her usual bravado as she nodded.

Clair loved Helena like a sister, and she owed the woman more than she would ever be able to pay back.

Her family had been taken from her when she was thirteen, her innocence a few weeks later. Five years later, when the brotherhood was working finding new backing, new territory, she met HG.

The Summit, a time every year when the leaders of the new nation met, The Hive, The Brotherhood, Manifestus, the Republic of Texas and a few smaller rulers, was being held in Manifestus territory, the capital in Monterey, California. The leaders were staying in the Gentry Mansion, it was the last year of peace they had.

HG was still getting used to her new role as a leader, following Sykes and MacPherson’s examples by being polite, but stoic. That is, until she stumbled upon Clair.

She had been exploring the huge compound, looking in rooms she probably shouldn’t have, and a locked door intrigued her, easily picking the lock.

She was met with a scene she wouldn’t easily forget.

Helena left California that night, trusting her two partners to deal with the politics and eventual repercussions when they discovered the eighteen year old prisoner gone.

Clair was trained by the best people HG could find, she was determined to be sure the young woman would never be left defenseless as she had been.

Seven years later, and the women were inseparable, and Clair was a skilled marksmen, a bright mind, and a deadly force to be reckoned with.

So at this request of Helena’s that Clair look out for Myka, the younger woman nodded solemnly. HG was clearly worried about back lash from this Kurt. MacPherson and Sykes didn’t employ the most stable of individuals after all…

* * *

Myka shifted uncomfortably in her chair, glancing over the restaurant to the back where her date had disappeared to.

She couldn’t believe she actually agreed to go on a second date with Kurt. The man was duller than a spoon, and he thought himself so charming and witty… Myka was one more badly concealed innuendo away from gnawing her own arm off.

She looked at herself in the reflection of a small compact, checking her hair and make up for the hundredth time before fixing her dress. Despite not wanting to be there, or more accurately, not wanting to be there with _Kurt_ , Myka knew it was her job to seduce information out of the guy. The first night spent with him had revealed little about the Brotherhood, but Myka could see Kurt becoming looser with information he shared with her.

She was tuning him out more and more often, however, as the night wore on. Truth be told, she found her mind wandering easily back to Instinct, wishing she were behind the bar, serving drinks and casually flirting with customers… and also the dark, deliciously tempting bartender…

There was an enraged shout and the sound of crashing plates that drew the attention of all the patrons, Myka included. She looked up just in time to see Kurt storming back from where he left to take a phone call.

“Come on,” He pulled the chair out for her, handing her her coat and clutch, “I’m taking you home.”

Fear spiked through Myka, and she tampered it down. Anger was rolling off Kurt in waves, and the Agent had to work to keep up her mask of honest confusion.

“What happened?” Myka asked as they sped around corners blindly in the car moments later.

“I’m not going to be seeing you anymore,” he bit out between clenched teeth.

He didn’t say anything more as they arrived at the bed and breakfast. He walked her to the door, still steaming, practically dragging her up the walk by her hand. At the red door, he came to a stop, his chest heaving as he fought to control his breathing.

“Kurt?” Myka asked, trying to catch his eye as her hand rested lightly on the door handle, just in case…

He looked up before grabbing her face between both his hands, crushing his lips against hers. Myka froze, in shock for a moment, before she had to force herself to not pull away in disgust and anger.

“I’m going to figure this out, I swear,” he nodded, “I have to be able to see you again.” He kissed her forehead once before turning and walking back to his car.

As soon as his taillights faded away, Myka wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, trying to scrub away the feeling of his lips on hers, “What the fuck?” she shook her head in confusion, getting some attention from the members of her team who were home as she stomped up the stairs to her room, slamming the door behind her.


	14. What Happened?

 

“What the actual fuck?” Rebecca pulled her hand from Myka’s death grip, holding her wrist, vaguely wondering if it was going to bruise.

Myka ignored her, closing the bedroom door behind them before turning to look seriously at her closest friend.

“Look, Mykes, I love ya, and dom you is super sexy, but I’m not really in the mood tonight, so if you don’t mind, I think I’d just like to talk.” She sighed as she kicked off her heels, tucking her feet up on Myka’s bed before pulling one of the pillows on her lap, letting her head fall against the wall with a dull thud. It was silent for a long moment, causing Rebecca to open one of her eyes to watch Myka worry her hands together, “Okay, forget my news, divulge woman.”

Myka rolled her eyes. For once, her first instinct hadn’t been to run and complain to Rebecca or Pete. No, what she wanted to do was call Emily and vent. She couldn’t really understand the urge, and besides there were a few problems with that. For one, she didn’t have the other woman’s mobile number. It wasn’t as if she could just show up at Instinct, not when she took the night off for a date that went horribly, especially when said date often frequented the club.

Not to mention the fact that it was an undercover operation for the Warehouse.

So instead, she waited up until Rebecca came through the front door before pouncing on her, grabbing her hand and dragging her up to the bedroom without so much as a proper greeting.

Before Myka could open her mouth to explain, the sound of “Wait, wait, wait,” drifted to them as well as the sound of footsteps. Claudia tripped into Myka’s room, catching herself at the last minute on the door handle.

Myka gave her a look that was half glare, have inquisitive, it personified the sentiment of, _“What the hell do you want?”_

“What?” Claudia rolled her eyes as she walked the rest of the way into the room, “You’re gonna talk about your date right? Well, this saves me from having to sit in my room and listen into it through your bio-feed, now you can actually hear my comments. Hey, do you think I could think of an inter-team communications thing? Maybe through our AIs?”

“You watch our bio-feeds?” Myka asked, face flushing as she thought through everything Claudia must’ve watched. Who else was watching?

“That’s kinda my job Mykes,” Claudia said in a _duh_ tone, Rebecca shrugging in agreement as the two redheads sat side by side on the bed now, “Anyway, enough about me, let’s hear about you and your date with Kurt.”

“Date?” Pete yawned from the door way before lumbering in and collapsing onto the foot of Myka’s bed, eyes already closed.

“No, Pete, please, _do_ come in,” Myka waved dramatically from the door to Pete’s current prostrate form.

“Who went on a date?” Pete went on, ignoring Myka’s sarcastic grumblings.

“Myka did,” Rebecca clarified.

“What? No way!” Pete sat up on his elbows.

Rebecca nodded, wide eyed while humming the affirmative, “She hasn’t told us much yet, but I’ve gathered from her tone and attitude that it did not go well.”

“Wow, why am I friends with any of you?” Myka huffed before collapsing into her computer chair, pulling her feet up to her chest.

“Aw, come on, Myka, you know we love you,” Pete gave her his puppy dog eyes, though they looked strange, upside down as it was at his angle, “Tell us how your date went.”

“Well, for starters, it wasn’t a real date,” Myka rolled her eyes, “It’s part of my undercover work, you know? He’s involved with the Brotherhood, more specifically MacPherson. I was doing my job, trying to get close. I _thought_ it was going well, at least our first date went okay…”

“Okay, okay, back up,” Rebecca leaned forward, “What happened on the _first_ non-date?”

“Well, he had been asking me out for a while, and when I finally gave him my number he called me a couple hours after my shift at the bar ended, and we went out for lunch. Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t as horrible as I expected it to be. Mostly because I got _some_ information out of him. Did you know MacPherson has a daughter?”

“That’s not in the files.” Pete’s brow furrowed, “I mean, I didn’t exactly _read_ them or anything, but it’s not, is it?”

“No, it’s not. I didn’t find out much about her except that she’s in her late twenties. Other than that, all I was able to get from him the first date was that he worked directly for MacPherson. I only agreed to the second date because I figured I could get more form him since he was beginning to trust me. I had only just learned that the third leader, Wells, he hasn’t been playing the game as long as the rest. Only about seven years, while the other two have been involved for decades.” Myka sighed, “Then his phone rang and it all got… weird. He drove me home, before we even got our food, and left me at the door step.”

The other three agents looked to one another, “You don’t think he found you out, do you?”

“What?” Myka shot back to her feet, pacing back and forth, “No, he couldn’t have! My back story is solid, I haven’t slipped. I haven’t even begun really digging yet! I’ve just been working at Instinct, listening to the drunks, and I haven’t even gotten any solid leads from that!”

“Maybe he just didn’t like you?” Pete suggested, earning a glare from Myka and a smack to the back of the head from Rebecca, “Ow! Hey, hey, hey, I’m just saying, maybe the date didn’t go as well as you thought it went. No offense, Mykes, but dating alone is tricky-,”

Claudia snorted, “This coming from a guy who’s online dating profile, under good qualities filled in, ‘I eat a lot of pineapple,’ followed by several winkey emoticons.”

“How did you find that?” Pete sat straight up.

“You may have heard I’m a hacker?” Claudia dead panned, “Got locked up for it, then recruited by our lovely government? Any of this ringing a bell?”

“Is nothing sacred anymore?” Pete collapsed back on to his back, throwing an arm over his face.

“Can we focus for a minute here?” Myka snapped, and her three teammates mumbled apologies, “Great, okay, I don’t think it’s because he’s not into me, I mean he kissed me on the porch before he left.”

“You kissed him?” Pete made a face.

“ _He_ kissed _me_ ,” Myka clarified, “I didn’t even have a chance to react before he was in his car driving off.”

“That is weird,” Rebecca nodded, “Do you think something came up for him? Like work wise? Could something big be going down and that’s why he just up and left?”

“Have you guys heard anything big going down with MacPherson or Sykes?” Myka looked to them, tilting her head while trying to remember if _she_ had heard something she had just written off. Why had he said he couldn’t see her anymore?

“I know I’m finally getting that gentlemen’s club…” Rebecca offered, “Well, _Becks_ is getting her club, with the full backing of Sykes. I should be getting a meeting with him soon. But I haven’t really heard anything about MacPherson or his men. Pete?”

The only man in the room shrugged, “I’ve been trailing after Amanda, the only thing I’ve heard from her are complaints at needing a babysitter twenty four seven. And I swear to god, if I have to drive her home one more time after a night of fending off drunken, horny men, I am going to lock her up somewhere.”

“Wow, Pete, jealous much?” Claudia quirked an eyebrow at him.

“What?” He pulled back, “No! For the last time, I do not like her like that!”

“Mmhmm,” the women nodded with faux sincerity.

“That’s it,” Pete struggled to his feet, “I’m out. I’m gonna go try and get _some_ sleep before Amanda can call me for some ridiculous request.”

Claudia made a whipping noise and Pete flipped her the bird over his shoulder.

Their laughter died down shortly after the door slammed behind him, and Rebecca’s eyes slowly slipped shut as Claudia play with a loose thread on the blanket and Myka stared for a while out the window.

“You know who might know what’s going on in the Brotherhood?” Claudia ventured carefully, waiting for Myka to tilt her head at her before continuing, “That bartender you work with? Emily Lake? She is a bar tender after all, and she’s been doing it longer than you have. She’s probably heard something tonight about what might be happening.”

Myka’s stomach flipped strangely, her brows furrowing over her eyes, “I don’t want to get her involved in this, she already puts herself in the middle of it as it is. I don’t want her to get hurt because of me.”

Claudia pursed her lips, trying to think of a good argument, “Yeah, but maybe we can justify protecting her, ya know? If she helps with the investigation, that can be the excuse you use for why you have to hang around her more.” Claudia hoped she wasn’t being too obvious in her attempts to get Myka and Emily to spend more time together.

Sure, they were on a job, they were trying to tear down this giant mob from the inside out, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t time for love in their lives. Claudia didn’t know much about love or family and she only very recently began to experience what it was like to have friends, but she wasn’t _blind_. She could see that there was something real between the two women, and she wasn’t going to just sit by and let this go.

Thankfully, Myka started nodding with her, “You’re right. I should talk to her. What time is it?” She pat her pockets in search of her phone.

“It is,” Claudia looked down at the old watch adorning her wrist, “just after four am.”

Myka grabber her jacket off the back of the chair, searching for her boots, “Instinct will just be closing, maybe if I hurry I can catch her.” She was trying to stamp down the butterflies that always seemed to come alive in her at the promise of seeing Emily.

“Go, go, go,” Claudia shooed fighting a smile.

“See ya,” Myka called over her shoulder, “Stay off my feed, Claud!” she shouted from the stairs.

Claudia huffed and rolled her eyes, before allowing them to close, “I’m tired anyway.” She yawned before falling asleep almost immediately, neither Rebecca nor Claudia bothering to go find their own beds.

* * *

HG sighed heavily as she turned the key in the lock, the action taking longer than usual due to her current state of mind.

“What is up with you lately?” Clair shifted from one foot to the other, fighting the urge to yawn as she buried her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket, “Messing with MacPherson and Sykes is one thing, but the crazy girlfriend act you pulled when talking about Bering?”

Helena grimaced, “Perhaps if they think I’m becoming unhinged, they shall be more likely to listen to me. I mean,” she turned on her heel, pocketing her key and facing her body guard and friend, “The last time I became over protected of someone it started a war between the families.”

“Right, that you did,” Clair smiled sadly, “Speak of the devil,” her eyes snapped up.

HG spun around to see Myka Bering slowly approaching hands shoved in to the pockets of ridiculously tight jeans, a shy smile adorning her face when they made eye contact.

“Myka,” She choked out before remembering she was supposed to be faking an American accent, she coughed and tried again, “Hello, Myka, what brings you down here?”

Myka shrugged, coming to a stop in front of them, “Would you believe me if I said I was in the neighborhood?”

Clair rolled her eyes, but Helena chuckled.

“Actually,” the woman rubbed the back of her neck as she kicked the toe of her boot into the ground, “I had a crappy date tonight, and I wanted to complain to a friend about it, and I realized you’re really the only friend I have…”

A lovely blush spread from her neck over her cheeks, dark enough that HG could see it even with what little light was available at the hour, “I’m flattered.” HG smiled.

“I’ll take that as my cue to go find Wolly,” Clair took a step back, “I’ll see you at home, Emily.” She tried not to put much emphasis on the fake name, but she had often expressed to HG the stupidity of keeping her identity secret, especially with how some of the connected patrons of Instinct treated her.

But there were secrets HG had that even Clair wasn’t privy to. She had known her for seven years, had seen her through some dark benders, heard the drunken rages that didn’t always make sense, and she knew very little on what caused them.

Now alone under the dim light over the head of Instinct’s entrance.

“How was the date?” HG asked to fill the silence that had grown heavy around them.

Myka’s face twisted slightly, shifting from one foot to the other, she was clearly uncomfortable, “It was cut rather short actually.”

“Oh?” HG’s voice rose an octave.

“Yeah, that’s actually why I wanted to talk to you.” There was something wrong in her tone, and immediately HG felt herself tense. Did she know? Did that moron Kurt say something to her?

That wasn’t possible though, Kurt had no idea who Emily Lake really was… did he?

“Perhaps, we should go somewhere to talk?” She forced her voice to remain light.

Myka nodded, her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly, “Sounds good to me.”

At the light she saw in the green eyes watching her so closely, HG was suddenly struck with an idea and went back to her club door.

“In here?” Myka questioned, following closely behind.

“No, I just need to grab something.” She assured her, going to a back room used as a locker room by the employees.

“What’s this?” Myka quirked an eyebrow when HG placed the object she had been after in her hands.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never ridden on a motorcycle.” Helena challenged with a smirk she knew Myka wouldn’t be able to pass up on.

She took the bait, “There’s a first time for everything.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of updates last couple weeks, my significant other is being shipped out in eight days, so we've been spending as much time as possible together


	15. Getting to Know You

Myka was holding on for dear life. Even through the barrier created by the full face helmet, she could hear the screaming wind and roaring engine as Emily continually picked up speed.

As they sped around a corner, the bike tilted until knees almost scraped pavement, and Myka clung tighter around the waist of the mad woman she was eighty-seven percent sure would be the death of her before the day was out.

It was then she felt a chuckle reverberate through her chest, feeling it from where she was practically welded to the other woman's back. Indignation filled the agent. Emily was actually messing with her.

Well, Myka wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. Besides, she reasoned, if Emily had enough faith in her own ability's on the sleek sports bike to be laughing as she pulled off these maneuvers, then, Myka figured, she should trust her as well.

So she loosened her grip, leaving her hands on Emily's hips, but no longer clinging to her as if her life depended on it. She felt the woman's breathing hitch at the movement of her hands, and it sent a thrill of excitement through her.

Trying to make it seem coincidental, using the rouse of Emily taking another sharp turn, she gripped tighter, letting her thumbs brush ever so slightly over the exposed skin of her back. Emily seemed to arch back into the touch.

After a few more moments of this, Emily seemed to catch on to the game she was playing, and came to a sudden halt at a light she could have made. Myka surged forward, her chest colliding with Emily's back, her thighs forced open further, and she couldn't stifle the gasp it caused.

The heat that bubbled in her veins threatened to spill over, and Myka knew she needed to halt this game before she got in too deep and was no longer able to help herself.

Thankfully, it seemed as if their journey was coming to a close, as Emily turned the bike into an apartment complex. It was then that Myka could actually take in their surroundings. She had never been to this side of town before, staying mostly around the B&B and the strip.

A residential neighborhood, only one other apartment complex accompanied this one in the midst of suburbia. It was well lit, there were no vagrants wandering the streets, searching for a fix of some sort or other, there was no graffiti, lawns were immaculate, nice cars in the driveways, no signs of dilapidation anywhere.

It was a shock to Myka's system, having grown so accustomed to the seedier areas of Univille, she thought the bed and breakfast was the best building in town. Now, however, it was clear she was the only one of the two who could be considered as living on the wrong side of the tracks. And even though it was just a cover, it made her feel embarrassed, and nervous.

Emily brought the bike to a halt, waiting for Myka to dismount before backing it into a space and killing the engine. Myka pulled her helmet off, trying her hardest to tame her now insane hair as best she could. She realized Emily had also taken off her helmet and was smiling wryly at her, not a hair out of place.

"Oh, come on, how is that even fair?" She said the words aloud without meaning to.

"What do you mean?" the bartender tilted her head slightly, her smile growing as her eyes traced over Myka's flushed face.

"How is it that you're still all, you know," she waved at her vaguely before sighing and shaking her head, letting her arm fall back to her side, "Never mind."

"Alright then, darling," Emily shook out her ridiculously perfect hair before getting off the bike with far more grace than Myka was sure she'd had, "Shall we go up then?"

Myka found herself nodding, despite the errant thought that was ever reoccurring whenever Emily spoke. There was something about the woman's voice that sounded false. The way she spoke and pronounced things sometimes threw her off. She couldn't help but to think that she was faking the accent…

She brushed it off, following her into an elevator. Emily smiled at her, but Myka caught a flash of something- nerves?- underneath the bright look. Emily ignored the buttons on the wall, instead placing her hand on a scanner that read her palm quickly before beeping twice.

The doors closed and they began their ascent. The air quickly thickened with a tension that made it difficult for Myka to breathe. She felt as if she were so close to Emily, she could feel the heat rolling off the other woman, the space they were now trapped in too small. At the same time, the distance between them seemed far too great, and she would give anything to be able to close it. To reach out and touch the woman who had been the star of so many inappropriate thoughts since meeting. To let her lips brush against hers, so tempting at this distance…

A ding signaling their arrival at the correct floor pulled Myka abruptly back to reality, realizing she  _had_ actually drifted nearer to Emily, her eyes focused on her mouth. Now though, she cleared her throat and took a step back, forcing a smile and motioning for Emily to step off the lift.

Myka rolled her eyes at herself as soon as she had turned away, feeling the heat brush over her face, neck and chest.

 _God, Bering,_  she berated herself,  _Get ahold of yourself!_

There was only one, double sized door, it seemed, on the entire floor. Emily pulled a simple key from her pocket to undo the dead bolt.

"Really? No retinal scan? Or DNA sample required?" Myka quirked an eyebrow.

"Disappointed?" Emily laughed along with her before pushing the door open.

"After the hand print scanner?" Myka followed after, "A little, yeah. I mean what's the point of that if they can just get into your place by picking a lock?"

"Well, then they'd have me or Clair to deal with," Her eyes flashed dangerously even as her smile grew, but the malicious glint disappeared quickly, "Wolly's girlish scream is enough of an alarm, I think."

"You live here with Clair and Wolly?" Myka let her eyes wander over everything they could as Emily flipped on light after light, expelling the heavy darkness that permeated the apartment.

"How else would I be able to afford this place," Emily seemed suddenly uncomfortable in her own home, standing with her hands in her back pockets as she watched Myka wander a bit in the living room, "I mean, Instinct makes a bit of money, but Clair has to help with the rent while Wolly tends to take care of the groceries. I wouldn't even have the place if my boss didn't own the building…" she trailed off as Myka studying the bookshelf, fingers trailing over well-worn spines.

"I've read most of these," she commented almost absent mindedly, "Your boss, MacPherson, right? He's the one who owns Instinct?"

Emily stiffened, Myka only noticing because her constant shifting form one foot to the other ceased. She quickly searched for a way to salvage what had sounded like an awkward turn of the conversation as she spun on her heel with a self-depreciating smile and a shrug.

"I'm just saying, after my date tonight, it's nice to know that not all of the people who seem to work for that man are complete assholes." It was Myka's turn to shuffle awkwardly.

"Ah, your date with Mr. Smoller," Emily nodded, grimacing slightly as the name passed over her lips, "Perhaps we need a drink for this conversation." She walked further into the apartment, to a kitchen with pristine looking appliances.

Emily pulled out two beers from the door, popping the caps and handing one icy bottle to Myka before taking a healthy gulp from her own. Myka watched her curiously, never before having seen the bartender actually drink anything. For some reason, the beer seemed like an odd choice for her. Myka could see her drinking wine or gin, perhaps a scotch, but the beer? It was like seeing a grown man drinking a dainty colorful drink or something equally absurd.

"So," Emily pulled her from her musings once again, "Kurt."

"Right." Myka nodded, pausing to drink from her own amber bottle, trying to not choke on the taste, it had been months since she herself had a drink. Costumers bought her shots and other drinks all the time, and she either passed or pored herself carefully disguised soda.

"Forgive me if this is too forward," Emily leaned across the counter on her elbows, half way across to where Myka was perched on a bar stool, "But what on earth do you see in him?"

Myka's mind worked to search for an answer that didn't sound too much like a lie, using the cover of taking another drink to give her a beat, "Come on, Em, he's not that bad."

"Having to qualify it by saying not  _that_  bad doesn't really help your case." She pointed out with a teasing smile.

"Yeah, yeah," Myka blushed, "But really, he isn't. He's actually kinda sweet and funny…" it was a stretch, but not by much. When they were alone, at least, Kurt was as she described, dropping that bravado he kept up around the club.

"Excuse me while I try not to throw up," Emily mumbled as she drained the remainder of her beer, grabbing another from the fridge for them both, "If he's so great, what happened to make you so upset over your so called date?"

Myka was having trouble deciphering the loaded words her friend seemed to be using, she was detecting some sharp undercurrent, but with the careful mask she was keeping up, she couldn't tell what emotion it was, "Well, he took me to a nice restaurant."

"Oh?" Emily's lip twitched, "Which one?"

"Theodora's?" Myka was watching the other woman's reactions closely now, "It used to be a small diner, now apparently you need a reservation months in advance. Unless you know someone, of course."

Emily's jaw flared slightly, "Such as the head of a mob?"

"Yeah," Myka agreed, "I was actually really looking forward to it, but he got a phone call before the main course even arrived." Relief blossomed across her face for a split second, and some vindictive part of Myka wanted to test it, "So, he drove me home, kissed me good night and promised he'd find a way to be with me regardless."

Emily drained her second beer before tossing it into the recycle bin with a little more force than necessary, "Well, that's just  _lovely_  I suppose."

"Oh my god," Myka smiled as the buzz of her second drink reached her head with the realization of the emotion Emily was exuding, "Are you  _jealous_?"

"What?" the other woman seemed pulled up short, "No, of course not!"

"Em, if you liked Kurt, you could have said something," Myka accepted another drink, despite knowing she was drinking too much too fast on an empty stomach, "Girl code and everything, I would have backed off."

"Don't be absurd," she practically growled, "If he and I were the last people on earth and humanity rested on our shoulders, I would smother him in his sleep and find a way to reproduce on my own."

Myka snorted, the sound catching Emily off guard, "Yeah, I can't blame you. Like I said, Kurt was sweet, but he seems to be living in another time period. I mean, he ordered my food for me, who does that? And I did not want a salad, I was starving, let me tell you…" she trailed off, listening to the beautiful sound that was Emily chuckling, that's when it clicked, "Hold on, if you weren't jealous because you wanted Kurt, does that mean-,"

Much to Emily's relief, the door to her apartment opened, and her two boisterous roommates stumbled in with arms full of groceries, laughing about some unheard joke.

"Hel!" Wolly called out before skipping into the kitchen, Emily sent him a death glare, "Hell _o,_ we have company." He called over his shoulder to Clair, cursing as she readjusted her grip on the plastic bags she was juggling.

"Wolly, right?" Myka smiled at him, remembering him from their meeting at the diner near Instinct. She'd only been a few times, choosing to stumble home as soon as possible, but meeting Emily's friend that first time had certainly made an impression.

"Well, well," he smiled brightly, eyes darting between the two women in the kitchen, "If it isn't Myka Bering. How the hell are you?"

"I'm good." Myka smiled brightly at him, feeling strangely at ease in his presence, but maybe that was the alcohol…

"Yeah? A bit drunk are we?" He laughed.

"Nah," Myka shook her head, "I've only had three, and I am not a light weight. In fact, when my best friend…" Myka suddenly trailed off, the emotions she had locked away after Sam's death rearing their ugly heads once more.

"Well," Wolly went on, not sensing her discomfort, or ignoring it, "It's about time our Emily brought you home, you're all she talks about."

"Really?" smile broke out over her face as she spun to look at the woman in question.

Emily's jaw was opening and closing, but she couldn't manage to say any words, settling for glaring at her best friend.

"Oh really," Clair chimed in, moving to stand beside him, "It's actually quite nauseating, like that time she was sulking around-,"

"Okay!" Emily clapped her hands, cutting off the teasing tones of her friends, moving around the counter to Myka's side, "How about we go for a walk, eh? Sober you up some before I send you home."

"But I'm not drunk," Myka frowned, stepping off the stool regardless, "And they were just telling me about-,"

"Yes, yes, but there was something I wanted to show you, darling," Emily took her hand, leading her away from the adults who were now giggling like children.

"Oh, okay." Myka found herself agreeing, if only because the feeling of her fingers laced with Emily's felt wonderful, "By guys!"

"Have fun!" they called back in unison before dissolving into a fit of laughter once more.

* * *

"Wow," Myka spun in a small circle to take in her surroundings, "I've never seen so many trees before."

Emily frowned at that small confession. How strange was it that trees had become a rarity in their world? There was something so innately wrong with that statement. She hoped to amend this, with any power she held, she wanted the world to be beautiful again…

"You know, I've been here for months, and this is the first park I've seen." Myka smiled at her suddenly pensive companion, "It's beautiful."

The park, located two blocks away from Emily's apartment, was mostly empty at this hour. It was still early, most people were just finding themselves waking from dreams, preparing for the day ahead of them.

"How did the city afford to have this?" she wondered aloud, not really expecting an answer, just trying to fill the charged silence that seemed to be continually falling between them.

"Would it surprise you to know that the Brotherhood paid for all of it?" Emily kicked at a pile of leaves, eyes trained on the lightning skyline, just visible through the trees ahead of them.

"What? Really?" Myka's face scrunched up.

"Yes," she nodded, "Well, more specifically, the ever elusive HG Wells backed it."

"Why?" The question seemed to be ripped form Myka's throat, but she was struggling to understand it, why would the Brotherhood take such an interest in setting up a park. Thus far, all activity they had seen them participate in had been illegal. Though, Myka supposed, they'd only been able to keep tabs on Sykes and MacPherson. They knew shockingly little about the third patriarch.

"Wells has always been interested in the betterment of the community," Emily went on, tone defensive, "Paying for schools and hospitals."

"Wow, I honestly didn't think he'd care." Myka shrugged, not really understanding why this seemed like such a hot topic for her friend.

"There's a lot about them you don't know." Emily's harsh words were lightened by the smile in her voice, and her voice echoed still with sadness.

"Oh no?" Myka quirked an eyebrow at her, allowing her shoulder to bump Emily's as they continued to walk side by side, "Well, by all means. Enlighten me."

"Shall we have a seat?" Emily gestured to a seat, suddenly seeming nervous, so while Myka obliged and took a seat, the other woman kept pacing back and forth in front of her. Myka waited patiently, though.

"Ten years ago, I found myself in a rather… difficult situation." She began, wringing her hands together, "I was living in Wisconsin, working as an intern in the state representative's office. I didn't really understand then, about the Hive or any of it." Her voice grew grave, her eyes distant, causing Myka's stomach to turn, "I didn't realize he was treating me any differently than the others who worked there. I honestly believed I was working my way through the ranks…

"I didn't believe the warnings of the girls who had been working there far longer. I mean, men's eyes always tended to linger on me, I'm not blind to my allure for them. I thought it was normal, the way he was treating me. Until one night, after a conference that ran late, he… he…" Emily's jaw tightened, and she blinked back tears of rage, "I hadn't been let alone with him in an office until then… I didn't know anything about self-defense then, there was no way for me to fight him off…"

Anger and hatred washed through Myka with a force that caught her off guard. It was a directionless rage that would be dangerous if Myka hadn't been working on her control for a long time. But she made a mental note to have Claudia look up who the representative for Wisconsin had been ten years prior…

"Anyway," Emily brushed a few tears away that had escaped, "Before he could be rid of me as he had been so many girls prior, I escaped, crossed the border into Brotherhood territory, and kept running, for a few years, until I reached Univille. The Brotherhood has been taking care of me since, protecting me from the Hive, they've sent more than one person after me. Clearly, none have been successful in retrieving me thus far."

Myka could tell there was more to the story that Emily wasn't sharing, but something was telling her that this was not the time to push for more information. It was surprising to have her open up this much as it was. Despite spending every night side by side with her, Myka knew shockingly little about the stunning woman before her now.

Emily finally collapsed onto the bench beside Myka, turning her body to face her, "I guess I shouldn't complain though, right? I mean, I got out alive, which is more than most in my situation can say. And I've done well. Earned a place, I'm good at my job, I have a nice home and good friends. Plenty of people out there have it a lot worse than I've got."

"Don't do that." Myka's brow furrowed as she stared seriously at the other woman.

"Do what?" Emily became trapped in the sheer depth of that gaze.

"Don't you dare diminish how you feel." Myka explained, "You have a right to be angry and complain about the shitty things in your life without having to answer to anyone about it. Because you  _matter_. How you  _feel_  matters. Don't apologize for it."

Emily found herself at a loss for words, never before hearing anyone speak with such conviction in her defense. A warmth blossomed in her chest, and she had to avert her eyes, feeling the blush spread over her cheeks as she cleared her throat.

"And what about you?"

"What about me?" Myka smiled, allowing the sudden subject change, seeing how awkward Emily suddenly seemed.

"What is the lovely Myka Bering's tragic story?" she explained, daring a glance at her out of the corner of her eye.

"What makes you think my story is tragic?" Myka argued.

"Please," Emily scoffed, "Good girls from stable environments don't grow up to work in bars and date mobsters." She rolled her eyes before lowering her voice, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, "We're all broken toys here, my dear."

Myka bit her lip, she didn't really want to talk about her fake back ground, not when Emily had clearly offered her something real and close to her heart. She took a breath, working to center herself, trying to find the truth in her lie.

"Okay," Myka nodded, coming to terms with her story, now it was her turn to look off, watching the birds and squirrels wake up, "My best friend… my only friend… we were supposed to meet up before going out. But I was running late, and when I got to our meeting place, I found him bleeding out on the floor. No one was around, and no one was going to come and help us. He died, and there was nothing I could do."

Myka took a shaky breath, feeling fingers slip through hers once more, squeezing gently to offer encouragement, "Sorry, I guess six months isn't long enough to erase the image from my mind… I was framed for his murder, but the cops couldn't prove it. I was all but threatened to leave town or I'd lose my life. I wandered for a bit, met up with the other drifters I'm living with now. We've grown close, I suppose. It's easier to breath, and the nightmares aren't as frequent."

Emily reached over to gently wipe the tears Myka wasn't aware she had shed, "I'm sorry, my love."

Myka shrugged, looking towards her once more, "Like you said, we're all broken toys here. And I'm no different."

There was a beat of heavy silence, it was Emily's turn to break it, "Well, emotional and mental stability is boring anyway."

Myka laughed at her attempt to lighten the atmosphere, "I suppose you're right."


	16. Devil Town pt. I

The air was damp and strangely cold for the summer weather that had Univille still firmly in it’s grasp. The sound of massive swamp coolers churning all around them, the buzz of flies diving in and out of reach in search of the moister that was cooling on the back of necks, the city never felt so far away.

Jack’s eyes darted warily at the forms gathered in small groups around them in the abandoned packaging plant that used to be the town’s sole form of income. He only recognized the two men on either side of him- they were Walter Sykes men, his bosses.

He had moved up the ranks quickly once being recruited into their fold. He had been there for only a few months, but money speaks louder to Walter Sykes than experience.

Jack continued to move the largest amount of product than any other dealer, and soon had dealers working under him. And now, he hardly had to walk the streets at all, except to give customers a familiar face.

He was going to need therapy, much as he was loath to admit, as soon as this under cover gig was up. The guilt that came with the knowledge of how he was helping damaged people get worse was almost too much most nights, and more often than not it took a bottle of Jack to get him to sleep. He was hardly comforted any longer at the notion that it was for the greater good.

Jack was hoping this would come to an end sooner rather than later. All he wanted these days was a repeat of the night before they left training. But how could he expect Rebecca to touch him after all he’s done. No one would want to if they met the kids whose hands shook as Jack took their money.

And this life was making him more paranoid than usual. Even he could admit that as he glanced at the unfamiliar faces, all waiting to know what had summoned them together with their rivals. Because that’s who was there, aside from Jack and Sykes’ men, it was the other drug dealers from the strip. The other, smaller bosses moving product through the veins of Univille.

The tension in the air was palpable, and Jack knew if you lit a match, it would explode around him. The gun tucked in the back of his belt gave him little comfort when he knew the size of the target that was painted on his back.

After all, more money for Sykes meant less money for his competition.

“Gentlemen!” a booming voice called out over their head, causing more than one person’s hand to twitch for concealed weapons, “And ladies,” the voice allowed after a moment, followed by the appearance of a man, dressed to the nines with a sickeningly charming smile.

“If you’ll gather around, it’s time to show you what you’ve all been gathered here for.” He checked a pocket watch, briefly glancing at the face before tucking it back away, clearly impatient for the suspicious criminals he’d invited here.

“Come, come,” he smiled encouragingly, “You’ll want to see this?”

“Is there a reason that you’ve dared to call me under the same roof as this corporate scum,” one man spat at Secord’s feet, and he had to fight the urge to shove the man’s face in it.

“Now, now, Charlie,” the man admonished with a grin, “I don’t care what team you all play for, I wanted to make sure to present you all with the same offer. Give you all a fighting chance without stepping on any toes. Trust me, you’ll want to see what I have here.”

A skinny boy wheeled in a crate, bringing it right to their host before scampering away.

All the dealers begrudgingly stepped forward, enemies brushing shoulders to get a closer look at what he was opening, until all twelve men and women stood in a lose circle.

“This,” he pulled out a package filled with pink powder, “Is the newest drug, a favorite of young and old quickly spreading faster than we expected. This is going to change the game.” He promised with a smile.

“What’s in it?” Jack asked before he could stop the words from spilling past his thinned lips.

“I’m glad you asked, Mr. Secord,” the man’s empty gaze turned on him, “It started as a party mix for college kids. It has all the effects of LSD, ecstasy and cocaine, without those pesky risks of painful detox.”

Jack frowned, years of knowing that if something was too good to be true it most likely was bullshit, but he could see in the eyes of the other dealers, they were eating it up. They couldn’t see past the dollar signs in their eyes.

Secord stepped back slightly, a tingle on the back of his neck making him look around nervously once more.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Jack whispered into the ear of his boss.

The older man looked at him questioningly, but also too a step back as the other dealers began to try and beat each other out of the new product.

“There’s enough to go around, there’s enough to go around,” their smiling host assured them, “Well, for now at least.” And just like that, violence erupted in the circle.

Jack shook his head, “I don’t like this,” he pulled on the back of his bosses jackets, pulling them free of the fray, he only had a moment to be surprised at it when the world exploded around him.  

* * *

The lazy thrum of an oscillating fan was droning in the back ground, the object doing little more than push the humid air through the police station that reeked of cheap coffee and sweat. It seemed the heat proved too much for even the criminals hand cuffed to the bench, waiting for officers to process them or release them.

 

It had been a busy day, and it was only going to grow more hectic, the full moon hung fat in the sky, its odd grip on the sanity of people tightening. Steve had been working there long enough to notice the pattern, the full moon definitely brought out the crazies and tonight was to be no exception.

He was loading up on mace, his night stick and stun gun as well as extra flexcuffs. He glanced around the pit for his partner, her blonde curls nowhere to be found.

Jinks frowned, usually by now, Sally was kicking his ass out the door to get a jump on their beat. Her southern accent leaving him wondering if he was being insulted or not. But over the sea of grimacing police officers and cursing perps, she was nowhere to be seen.

That wasn’t a good sign.

Equipment clipped and secured, Steve began to weave through the sweat soaked bodies of his colleges, headed for the captain’s office, worried about the woman he was sure he couldn’t realty stand most days. But, if he was honest, the long hours he had spent over the last few months with her had- not  _warmed_  them up to each other, but at least gave them an understanding and trust that was necessary.

“Cap, have you seen,” he was asking as he pushed the door in, “Stokowski!” he pulled back at her grim scowl, taking in her crossed arms and tapping foot, “I was looking for you.”

“Can’t get on without little old me, huh Jinksey?” her attempt at their usual banter fell flat and Steve knew something was wrong.

She radiated a nervous energy, and the captain seemed to be considering her carefully, if a bit skeptically, “Just what does your partner think of this big tip?”

 _Big tip?_  Steve schooled his features as they both focused on him now.

“Jinks is just jumping to back me up on this,” she assured him, shooting her partner a look, “Right Jinks? Tell the Cap that you think this could be the biggest break in a gang case we’ve seen yet.”

“Yeah, of course,” Steve nodded quickly, “And we should jump on it while we still can?” he fought to keep the question out of his tone, watching Sally for his cues.

The captain looked between both of them, rubbing his mustache thoughtfully for a moment, “Alright, I’ll reassign you both to vice for the night. Call Jason for SWAT and for the love of god, don’t be the commandos you both like to be. Bring some goddamned back up will you?”

“You got it, sir.” Sally smiled, seeming both calmed by his allowance and more nervous.

 _Wait, vice crimes?_  He shot his partner glance, but it was clear now was not the time to question her in front of their boss. She grabbed his elbow and drug him from the room before the captain had a chance to change his mind.

“Want to tell me just what the hell we’re doing?” Steve demanded in a harsh whisper as Sally sent out a message from her desk’s computer, “Because something tells me it’s not our normal beat, which is really weird because watching you tackle people on the full moon is like watching a kid at Disney Land.”

“Pipe down for a minute and listen,” Sally grabbed his collar and pulled his face close to hers, “We’ve got a tip on a huge drug deal going down in an abandoned factory  _right now_. My CI has eyes and ears on the place, all the major players have shown up, some new drug is getting it’s grand debut, and we are gonna stop it.”

Her smile was wide and slightly crazed, not a reassuring sight to say the least. But Steve was suddenly worried. He couldn’t pin point why, exactly, but he knew something huge was happening right under his nose.

“So, Jinks, are you with me or not?” It was a bigger question than it sounded, Jinks could sense that. This was the pivotal moment when Sally would make her final judgment, Steve’s cover relied on her explicit trust.

So, despite all the warning bells going off in his head, Steve nodded, “Hell yeah.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” She pat his cheek in a condescending manner, “Let’s go kick some ass.”

Her nervousness was spreading to Steve and the other officers crammed in the back of the black van, it would only tale one loud noise to set off any of them, all loaded like springs in their seats.

They moved out of the van in a quick practiced manner, no words were needed as Sally and Steve lead point, sending half their officers around back while preparing to storm the front entrance.

A moment of charge silence fell around them, partners exchanged a nod, the safeties were clicked off…the front man kicked the door in, throwing a smoke grenade in. Shouting and coughing spilled out, and the officers took their cue to barge in, guns raised, yelling out commands.

A gun went off, followed by several others as no one was sure who fired first.

“Freeze!” Steve shouted, aiming his gun at the back of one of the men who seemed intent on running, “I swear to god I will blow your freaking head off, turn around! Keep your hands in the air!”

The man slowly spun, doing as he was told, and when their eyes met, Steve wavered, recognition passed between both of them as well as confusion.

_What the fuck was Jack doing there?_

The other undercover agent made the mistake of taking a step forward, and Jinks training kicked in, fixing his aim and letting his finger rest on the trigger, his features set in a grim line, “I said don’t move!”

Jack started slightly at the growl, eyes widening slightly.

“Get down on your knees! I said down on your knees!” Jack stumbled to the ground in his black slacks, “Interlock your fingers behind your head and cross your ankles! Do it now!”

Jack’s face soured, looking pissed off and thoroughly betrayed as Steve approached with handcuffs, not exchanging any words not tainted with a barking order.

When the smoke cleared, there were six casualties, all from the opposing gangs. Jack could see his own bosses in a similar position as him, while their host was nowhere to be found. Jack swallowed his curses, letting Steve jerk him to his feet and shove him towards the police force waiting for them.

* * *

Opening night, and the whole place smelled of artificial sugar, gin and sex.

 

Rebecca moved around with ease, smiling up at her girls dancing on the stage, bank notes fluttering around them. The more experienced, the braver, moving their hips over seated patrons or leading others to private rooms.

The haunting melody, pulsating lights and cloying scents all worked to hypnotize the men and women who sought oblivion through the glitter covered bodies of the working girls turned exotic dancers. Some Rebecca recognized as regulars who enjoyed her girls before.

She was their mother hen, always looking out for the girls and boys whose bodies were used by their previous pimps merely as a means to an end. Now though, the agent found herself caring for them all to an extent. Shooting warning glances at handsy men leaning into the stage, making sure the bouncer was on alert at all times…

Her reputation got around, and her small circle of troubled people working the only way they knew how grew. She treated them far better, garnered far more of their loyalty through kindness than anyone expected. She even managed to get them off the streets, as she promised.

Here they danced for their money, not exactly brag worthy, but better than selling blow jobs behind a rundown diner for cigarette money. They could still sell whatever they wanted, now under the protection of Becks, with the full backing of Walter Sykes. So while they were more regulated than they were used to, they also had benefits and thicker wallets.

Despite her it being her job to get close to the Brotherhood, Rebecca had been wary of getting into bed with Sykes, so to speak. But he really did make her an offer she couldn’t refuse.

The secret smile that graced her ruby red lips, made her all the more frustratingly tantalizing. But people knew better than try and get at the maddeningly unattainable woman. Her proclivity for tearing down those who tried was well known by now.

What they didn’t know, that behind that small smile that reflected in her eyes like a private joke was not humor, but pride.

The opening night of Beck’s club was going off without a hitch. After only a few bustling hours, they had already made as much as they would on a regular busy Friday night.

 _If ever it should come to it,_ Rebecca thought wryly,  _I could hang up my badge and make a killing like this._

She was far better at her undercover job than she would have ever thought. She was making quite a bit of money, even after paying those working for her more than they had ever seen. All that money was going to scholarship funds and other community projects, but still. Rebecca had seen her bottom line and it was surprising.

Clearly her college education was being put to good use. Her parents would be so proud.

Rebecca snorted out loud before tampering down on her humor, because, as if the universe was listening to her inner thoughts, the good times abruptly came to an end.

Over the sounds of music and faint moans, Rebecca heard a sickening  _crack_ , glancing up just in time to see her six foot four body guard drop like a sack of potatoes to the floor. A pool of blood slowly growing around his head in a crimson halo.

“I think it’s safe to say the club is now closed.” The bald man with a thick Irish accent laughed, swinging his aluminum bat around so it whistled through the air.

Patrons scrambled for the door while the dancers retreated to the stage, effectively hiding behind their den mother as she stood between the four crudely armed men and them.

“What did you do?” Rebecca struggled no to move forward to check on her guard, instead rooting her feet in place.

“Oh him?” the man stepped over the unmoving body, “He’s just taking a little nap, don’t worry about him darlin’, I’d suggest you start worrying about yourself instead.”

“What do you want?” Rebecca’s voice was strong, carrying easily over the sounds of panic to reach the ring leaders ears.

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing?” he chuckled stepping forward, rubbing his bloodstained bat lovingly, “Why don’t you get up on the stage and show me what those little hips can do.”

“I told Sykes,” she growled out, refusing to back down from his advance, “I don’t do that, not anymore.”

“Oh, Mr. Sykes didn’t send us,” he shook his head, giving his men a cue Rebecca missed, as the other three moved forward, holding crowbars, tire irons and a golf club, “No, see we’re here on the behalf of the Riley family, seems you, little missy, have been busy sweeping up all of our business.”

“It’s not my fault you have trouble keeping clients,” Rebecca sneered, “Customer  _satisfaction_  plays a crucial role, however, perhaps you should look into it.”

“LANA, get help,” Rebecca growled under her breath when the man was busy chuckling mirthlessly.

“What you and Mr. Sykes have failed to realize,” He snapped, turning on her in an instant, “Is that you don’t own this whole fucking town. So me and my boys here, we’re gonna make sure that this little lesson sticks.”

The six girls that stood behind her squealed as the burly men advanced, their sick smiles flashing dangerously. The front man has reached Rebecca now, reaching the bat out to tuck under her chin. She could feel the warm, sticky blood smear across her skin as she swallowed unconsciously.

“ _I’ve alerted Agent Donovan,”_ LANA assured her, his voice sounding frantic, “ _I also should let you know that one of the more high profile clients you attend to has informed Sykes men of this intrusion. I would expect his arrival faster than the police.”_

Well, beggars can’t be choosers, Rebecca supposed. Never the less, however fast Sykes would send someone to her aid, it wouldn’t be fast enough, there was whimpering behind her now as they feebly bat away grabby ands and reaching weapons.

“You’ll want to step back.” She growled at him through clenched teeth.

“What you gonna do, huh?” his laugh was echoed around him, “Scratch me with your pretty pink nails?”

Something inside the agent snapped, her need to protect the girls behind her as well as herself winning out over her training to stay in character at all times. She grabbed the bat, twisting it easily out of the man’s hand, smashing the end of it quickly into his face, chipping a tooth and breaking his nose.

“You bitch!” he spat a mouthful of blood at her, ducking her next swing, aimed to take his head clear off his shoulders. She swung once more for his gut, but she never trained with combat weapons, and he stopped it easily, ripping it from her grasp and throwing it to the side.

He backhanded her, sending her reeling for a moment before wrapping a meaty fist around her throat, “I was only sent to teach Sykes a lesson after the shite he pulled tonight, but you, little one, you’ve pissed me off now.”

She could feel the bruises forming on her neck as breathing got increasingly difficult as black spots dotted across her vision. She flashed back to training for hours a day with Myka on the mats.

Rebecca was never happier for body lotion than she was in that moment, because mixed with the sweat from the heat and excitement, it make her skin slick and with a burst  she was able to rip his hand from her neck, in the same motion pushing his arm down at an angle. With one quick jab from her free hand, his elbow was snapped in the opposite direction than originally intended.

He cried out in a broken sound of pain. Rebecca quickly brought him down to his knees before bringing her foot swiftly across his jaw. His body sought comfort in the realm of unconsciousness.

There was a beat of silence before the other three men turned on Rebecca, intending to avenge their leader, but before they could move in on her, the sound of a gun being cocked brought everything to a screeching halt.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Marcus Diamond, Sykes’ right hand man, stood with a dangerous smile as he took in the scene around him, “You know the rules… touching is strictly prohibited. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

* * *

This Friday was going like every other seemingly endless string of Friday’s, as far as Pete Lattimer was concerned as he flipped aimlessly through a newspaper.

 

Amanda was sitting at the same table in the same restaurant with the same friends that she did every Friday. Ashley, Brooklyn and Chase were planning on hitting the strip for drinking and dancing as they usually did. Laughing at the same people, the same jokes, eating the same no fat no sodium no sugar foods.

Pete sits a little ways away at a private table, his back to a corner so every window and door is in his line of sight as well as his charge. It was a sea of sameness that should have bored Pete out of his easily distractible mind.

As it was, he carefully studied Amanda Martin over the top of the retro news source, newspapers having made a strange comeback in Univille. Pete didn’t care. He was far too interested in what he was watching.

Amanda was laughing with her so called friends as they tossed back their fruity cocktails, but the expression wasn’t reaching her eyes. Something he had noticed as of late, she only smiled when someone else was looking at her, waiting for it, expecting it of her.

She pushed her food around more than she ate it, she only ever let herself relax when she was alone. The rest of the time, she seemed constantly on edge. Which Pete could understand, the woman seemed to be constantly under some sort of scrutiny. Between her friends, bloggers and paparazzi, one false step by her would be immortalized.

She stopped fighting so hard when Pete insisted they stay in more often than not. The only times he couldn’t keep her in was Friday nights, though she seemed to loath them, the trio of so called friends who seemed bent on milking her for all she was worth insisted.

Not that either would admit it, but Pete and Amanda had grown quite close over the last few months. She had grown accustomed to his constant presence now that he practically lived in her condo. Rather than kill each other like everyone expected them to, behind closed doors, Amanda and Pete bonded over a love of crappy sci-fi films and sweets- though Amanda hardly indulged in it as often as Pete seemed to.

No one knew, aside from the woman herself, but Pete had become the closest thing to a real friend that Amanda had ever known.

Pete wished he could find an excuse to make Amanda go home, she just seemed so sad…

But before he could think of a plausible reason, he was wracked with a sudden dread that filled the pit of his stomach like a poison. His eyes snapped up as he scanned the crowd- he hadn’t had a vibe like this since his father…

The restaurant was too full, there was too much movement between too many people, he couldn’t pin point anything, and the sinking feeling only got worse. Finally, a form that was parting the crowd, caught his attention.

He stood out like a sore thumb in a sea of designer clothes. Raggedy jeans, a black hoodie, dark hair that hung in front of darker eyes, filled with murderous intent that was currently focused on the chuckling blonde, oblivious to anything outside of her table. She certainly didn’t notice the dull metal of the gun as the candle light glinted off the barrel when he rose it to chest level, taking aim.

Pete was on his feet, shoving waiters and patrons alike out of his way, wishing Amanda let him sit closer to the table. He could only watch in horror as it began to play out in front of him.

“Amanda Martin,” he had an accent, thick, Irish or Scottish… Pete couldn’t really tell the difference, and it didn’t really matter right then anyway.

Amanda looked up in response, freezing in place when she finally saw him, ten feet in front of her and grinning madly at her. Pete drew the gun from the holster beneath his jacket, chambering a round as he drew near.

“It’s nothing personal, lovey,” the gunman shrugged, “It’s just business, and your Da is in the wrong business.”

Pete dove in front of his paling charge, taking aim and pulling the trigger at the same time as a sound exploded in front of him.

There is screaming, shoving, a stampede is forming around him, but all Pete can notice is his bullet found it’s home between the eyes of Amanda’s would be murderer and he smiles, turning to check on her.

Blue eyes wide with horror, her lips are forming words that Pete can’t comprehend, because it’s then that he becomes aware of the pain in his chest, the growing numbness in his limbs.

He glances down as Amanda pulls at his jacket, seeing the spreading crimson on his grey shirt. But, there’s blood on Amanda’s pink dress too, and his hands reach out, touching her even as he falls to his knees.

“Are you okay? Are you hit?” he’s mumbling, struggling against the sudden urge to close his eyes. Part of him realizes, finally, that it’s  _his_  blood that has ruined her pretty dress, “I’m sorry.” He blinks, “I liked this dress.”

“Pete, you idiot, shut up,” Amanda snaps frantically, falling to the floor with him, trying to keep pressure on the bullet wound. There’s tears in her eyes, and she’s sniffling, pulling Pete’s head into her lap, “Why did you do that?”

“I’ll always protect you,” he said in a tone that made it seem as if that was supposed to be obvious, “But I think I need a nap. Just… real quick… okay?”

“No, Pete,  _No damn it!_ ” she shook him slightly, “You stay awake, goddamnit, you are not allowed to die, okay? If you die, who’s going to protect me, huh? Pete!” she sobbed, uncaring of how she looked to the people now watching curiously, all danger seemingly gone.

“Pete?” her voice was broken and soft as Pete’s eyes slipped shut.

* * *

“No, no, no, no, no.” Claudia pounded on several keys, sending emergency dispatch where it was needed  _now_ .

 

How had everything so suddenly fallen to shit? What the hell had happened? Steve was talking in a low voice to Stokowski, Jack was handcuffed to a bench, Rebecca was trembling on the floor, trying to come to terms with what just happened while Marcus Diamond was ordering men around, and Pete…

 _Oh, Pete,_  Claudia groaned, watching his bio-feed as it grew erratic.

She vehemently wished she had gotten the inter team communication up and running now, as she frantically scrambled to keep track of those on her team who were in danger.

 

 _At least Myka’s okay,_  she thought to herself, barely sparing the scene at Instinct a glance as she repurposed the screens meant for Myka so she could focus on saving her team. Missing the chaos that erupted two minutes later.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, i had to break this chapter in half when i realized how long it was getting.


	17. Chapter Sixteen: Devil Town pt. II: Everybody Wants to Rule the World

"She sure picked a bloody fantastic day to call in sick." Wolly sneered as he tossed a drink mixer into the air, only to catch it once more behind his back. He was getting quite good behind the bar.

Myka wished she had the patience, or hell, even the  _time_  to defend the woman she was pretty sure she was half in love with to her best friend, but the truth was the other bar tender had abandoned them to what had quickly devolved to the craziest night at Instinct that Myka had ever seen.

Friday's were  _always_ busy, she had come to accept that, and the heat of the summer kept the patrons gathered around the bar. But  _this_ , it was as if the city had all simultaneously lost their mind. Some strange mixture of the August heat, the full moon and the high of a Friday had created an absolute mad house.

To make matters worse, they were understaffed- as far as security went as well as the bar's manager and head bar tender. The club never had much use for the security guards, Myka had never seen someone get thrown out or any fights- it just didn't happen at Instinct. So when half of the security guards had called in sick, Myka hadn't seen it as a big issue.

Now though,  _now_ she found herself missing the big, conspicuous, awkward guys that patrolled the dance floor like sharks. Because the crowd was one spilled drink, one misplayed song, one accidentally stepped on toe away from a full riot.

"Where is Emily, anyhow?" Wolly asked before sliding two drafts down the bar to the waiting hands of the customers.

"What do you mean?" Myka made a face as she poured two mixers simultaneously, while noting the next order being shouted at her, "How should I know, you're the one that lives with her."

"Yeah," the Brit shrugged, taking a credit card from his next customer, "But as of late, she's been spending all her free time that she's not at the club with you. I just figured…" he trailed off as a man demanded his attention by slamming his empty glass on the counter, unwittingly starting a chain of people mimicking the action and they worked to find a rhythm.

Myka flinched as she heard a few protesting and cracking, "Well, this time, I'm as clueless as you. Let's just hope she shows up soon. Otherwise she may not have a club to come back to."

The continued to work in silence, focusing on making the customers happy, trying to ignore the slick sweat gathering on their backs. Crowd control was beginning to feel a lot like pushing a bolder up hill. They could only gain an inch or so, but if they let up even a little, the rick would threaten to crush them.

"Mykes! Hey Mykes," Myka groaned, refusing to turn around to the voice that beckoned for her, "Myyykaaa." He was being insistent.

"Not now Kurt," Myka glared at him over her shoulder, watching as he rocked on his heels drunkenly. "Seriously, do you not see how swamped we are?"

"Forget this shit," he slurred, leaning over the counter to grab Myka's wrist, yanking her towards the counter, "I need to talk to you. It's important." He blinked slowly.

Her first instinct was to yank her arm free of him, but she had to fight against it, remembering that Kurt was her way into the Brotherhood. Her face turned with a grimace, the thought of flirting with Kurt right now making her physically nauseated… and she  _really_ didn't have time for this.

So she shook her head at him, "I can't do this, not now and not here and definitely not with you." She made a move to turn away from him, but his grip tightened, and he yanked her into the counter.

"You listen here bitch, do you know who the fuck you're talkin' to, coz-,"

But whatever he had planned to say was cut off as a series of loud bangs resounded through the air- the music abruptly stopped, people began screaming.

"EVERYBODY WHO DOESN'T WANT A BULLET BETWEEN THEIR EYES BEST GET THEIR FUCKIN' ARSES ON THE GROUND!"

Kurt dropped Myka's hand, and she didn't fight instinct now as she spun, grabbing Wolly's arm and yanking him down with her, hiding underneath the bar between the drying glasses and empty bottles.

She put a hand over his mouth, glancing around in a panic, searching for a phone, a fire alarm, an emergency button but found nothing. People were crying out- in pain, in fear, and the laughter of several men echoed it.

"We don't want to kill any of you," the man who had shouted called out, Myka could hear the accent in it now, "But we will if we have to."

"Where's the panic button?" Myka whispered harshly to Wolly.

"We only want to talk to the proprietor of this fine establishment," the Irishman went on, "Bring him out to us, and we'll be on our merry way."

"There isn't one." Wolly wrapped his arms around his knees.

"What?" Myka hissed.

"So, as long as none of you drunk fools try and play hero, we can all go home tonight."

"We never needed it!" Wolly's voice was high with panic now,"This place is usually the most guarded club on the strip!"

Myka rolled her eyes, her choices dwindling.

"Me and my boys are gonna have ourselves a look around, and believe me, they don't have the same reservations about not hurting people." Dark laughter trickled into the air, and Myka was having trouble trying to figure out just how many people she was dealing with.

The next time a woman cried out, Myka made her decision. She was a cop first and an undercover agent second after all- protecting people from monsters is what got her into this business in the first place.

She carefully crawled to the sink, ignoring the various liquids she was slipping in, shushing Wolly silently when he began to question her with fear filled eyes.

She came to a trembling stop beside the metal basin, taking a moment to steady her breathing as she reached behind, gripping her service pistol where it had been hidden, taped back there the first night she worked, just in case.

After quickly making her way back to Wolly, she checked the clip, took it off safety and put a round in the chamber.

"What- what do you think you're doing?" Wolly demanded through tightly clenched teeth.

"Shush, shut up," she snapped at him, "I'm trying to figure out whether I'm going to make a bad decision." She held the gun tightly, close to her chest, leaning her head back and closing her eyes, praying to whatever was listening for the wisdom in what to do.

* * *

The three leaders of the Brotherhood sat around a desk in a random office in the Sykes building. Their personal body guards stood pacing, shifting restlessly from foot to foot, glancing at the door.

This meeting was supposed to last an hour at most, but the topic was keeping them on edge.

Walter Sykes and James MacPherson had thought themselves quite clever when they came up with this little scheme. Bring in a man from the outside with promises of new drugs and endless riches to be had. They sought to bring the dwindling members of the competing gangs still left in Univille.

Their aim was to take them out, they wanted the corner of the drug market for themselves, they wanted the men and women to seek physical comfort with only Rebecca's people. They wanted Univille to be a monopoly, with themselves on top.

They couldn't have the other gangs knowing it was all a set up. The plan had been to be arrested right alongside them, and have Sykes' detective bitch pull some strings to get them out of the hot water.

Yes, they thought themselves quite clever, they had thought of everything it seemed. So they couldn't understand why their third partner was looking as if she wanted nothing more than to strangle the life from them the moment they informed her what was happening that night.

"Are you bloody mad?" she demanded, slamming the palm of her hand on the oak, enjoying the way they flinched away from her sudden outburst, "They're no longer a threat to us! These gangs were dying out on their own, we needn't have pushed them!"

"They weren't dying fast enough." James sneered.

"And you didn't think it important to tell me?" HG growled, "Perhaps if you had I could have told you how damned short sighted this little plan of yours is! Did you think of the back lash of something like this if the gangs you're burning tonight learn it was all a set up?

"Oh, relax, Wells," Walter leaned back in his seat, pulling his cell phone from the inside of his blazer, "Stokowski messaged me. It's done, and half the other leaders are dead. It all went off without a hitch."

HG put her fingers to her temples, leaning on the desk as she squeezed her eyes shut, "I'm surrounded by idiots." She mumbled.

"Come, Helena, see things the way we do," James implored her with a patronizing tone, "If we want to expand our borders, push against Manifestus, we need all the strength we can muster. With the heads of these smaller gangs out of the picture, the lost sheep left shall seek out new leaders. We assimilate, increase our numbers and strength."

"Are we planning a war?" Helena's head snapped up.

"One should always be prepared." James nodded, but HG got the feeling that wasn't the whole truth.

The jingling noise from the device in Sykes' hand prevented her from seeking the answers she wanted.

"Yes, what is it?" Walter asked in a bored voice, but whatever he heard in response had him sitting up suddenly, "What? When?" he listened intently for a moment before hanging up.

"Rebecca's place has been attacked, men armed with baseball bats it seems. Marcus!" he snapped at his guard, _"_ Go help her, and do hurry- their hurting my merchandise!" he sneered.

Marcus scurried away like a good guard dog, and Helena had to bite back her retort that it was people he was talking about, not goods stocked on the shelves of some warehouse.

"Who was it?" MacPherson asked, resisting the urge to call into his own places and check in.

"He said the man had an Irish accent." He bit out.

"Riley." James nodded in response as if he expected as such.

"I hate to say I told you so, gentlemen," HG shook her head at them, "But did you honestly not expect some kind of retaliation against you, Sykes?"

"Watch it Wells," he leveled her with a glare, "An attack on one of us is an attack on all of us, don't forget it."

"He's right, darling," MacPherson pat his shoulder, "I expect your full support in dealing with this."

"And you shall have it," HG assured them, a slight mocking tone residing in the words, "Don't you fret, Walter, we wouldn't want any more grey hairs to appear, now would we?"

She was joking, and even smiled a bit at the way he scowled at pressed a hand against his head, but HG Wells was already planning moves and counter moves. She knew what had to be done, she was under no illusions that this act by the Irish would end in anything but a blood had made a smart move in bringing HG into the fold, she really was a cunning asset.

"Go," Nate spoke into the phone that no one had heard ring, pulling all attention on him at once when he barked out an explitive before turning to face MacPherson, Sir, there's been another attack _._ "

"Where?" James demanded, crossing his arms to hide his shaking hands.

"Your restaurant, sir." Nate was paling quickly, HG didn't think she had ever seen him quite so fearful.

"Well? Who was the target?"

"Amanda-,"

"IS SHE ALRIGHT?" MacPherson shot to his feet, his chair falling backwards.

"Information is coming in slowly," Nate ran a hand through his hair,"There was a panic and gun fire, we're working on getting men in now."

"You go yourself, Nate,and if something happens to my little girl…" he growled moving to stand in Nate's space.

"I'm on it sir." The other man stumbled backwards before practically running for the door.

Now MacPherson paced back and forth, ripping his hair out at the roots, it was then that Sykes turned to half smirk half grimace at Wells.

"What did I tell you, Helena?" he shook his head back and forth, "An attack on one of us means an attack on all of us."

Dread filled HG, its tendrils wrapping around her, threatening to strangle. She shared a look with Clair, watching the fear blossom in her eyes as she too came to the same realization as Helena had. They needed to get to the club, where the only people they could think to protect were currently without protection.

Wolly and Myka… they had been left in charge of the bar and club, and Sykes and MacPherson had requested half of HG's security… Wolly and Myka weren't like Helena and Clair, they didn't have extensive training, there was no way for them to protect themselves.

Both women made a move for the door at the same time, without so much as having spoken to one another.

"Helena where do you think you're going!" James snapped, "In case you have failed to realize, let me tell you we're in the midst of a crises now! We can't have you running off-,"

"Look, this has been fun boys," Helena turned so she could look at them as she spoke and still continue towards the exit, "But I have my own sand castle to protect, so if you would excuse me." She left with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, Clair right on her heels.

She knew she was practically running for Clair's car now, but the only thoughts in her mind were of Myka and Wolly and the feeling that she just wasn't moving fast enough, that she would be too late.

She broke into a full run

* * *

"How many are there?"

"I'm not sticking my head out there!" Wolly's voice came out louder than he intended.

"Wolly…" Myka shot him a look, but a man slid over the counter, standing at least six and a half feet tall, Myka was quick to hide her gun in the back of her belt.

"Lookie lookie," he smiled down at them, yanking them both to their feet, "More hostages."

Myka pretends to cry out in pain as she and Wolly are thrown unceremoniously to the other side of the bar. She's taken a count, there's five of them in total, all armed with weapons, only one of them seems to have a gun though, and it's not the one who just manhandled her.

The crowd also seems to have thinned from what it was, if Myka had to guess, some of them had made their escape in the initial panic.

Cowards were a luckier bunch, it seemed.

It was a risk, a stupid risk, but Myka had to do something as she could feel the waves of terror washing from the patrons surrounding her now, all on the floor, noses to the ground and hands laced on the backs of their heads. Wolly had joined them, but Myka had remained on her feet, refusing to play along anymore.

"Get down, doll," the man who pulled her from her hiding spot shoved her in the back with the end of a baseball bat, Myka spun. Pulling the bat from his hand, while swinging her other arm, catching him in the jaw and stunning him.

She never did do well with being pushed.

He cried out, and a shout form behind was her warning. She grabbed him and spun, a mock lovers embrace saving her life as bullets from their leader's gun peppered into his back. Eight bangs, and a curse as it clicked empty.

She released the man- now dead, and turned to face the rest of the room once more. Patrons were running in a panic, trying to escape now that a window had presented itself.

"Wolly get out of here! Now!" she barked at him, watching the final four warily.

"No way, she'd kill me if I left you to die," he shook his head stubbornly.

"I'll kill you!" she threatened.

" _I'm having trouble contacting Agent Donovan._ " Even MARLE sounded panicked.

Myka rolled her eyes,  _great, the one day she decides not to watch my life, that's just… that's just fucking perfect._

Myka quickly pulls out her gun once more, a quick shot finding it's home in another mans chest- he had gotten too close to Wolly for Myka's comfort. She turns to the next threat, this one advancing on her, and pulls the trigger, but her gun jams.

"I really should have cleaned this thing." She sighed to herself just as the man lunged at her with a knife.

She grabbed his wrist, twisting until it snapped and the knife falls to the floor, and he cried out in shock and pain. She brings the heel of her opposite hand up, crushing his nose inward and upward. Blood explodes from his nose as he stumbles away from her. She clapped her cupped hands over his ears, and when he reacted to the sudden ringing and dizziness, she brought her foot up, driving the heel of her boot into his chest. The man, unable to regain his balance, fell back, his head catching the edge of the bar with a sickening crack.

He fell into a motionless heap on the floor.

"Three down." She huffs.

She spun, coming face to face with a gun, the leader evidently having finally reloaded it. Myka held her breath, bringing her hands up in mock surrender.

"That's a good girl," he smiled at her.

Myka's eyes narrowed, and with a move so quick, one would have thought she practiced it nightly, she wrapped her foot around a discarded jacket, kicking it up into the man's face.

"What the fuck?" he ripped at the material, but the distraction was enough for Myka to grab a bottle of Jack from the counter and smash it over his head.

There was one man left, and Myka realized he too had a gun, currently aimed at her. He was too far away, and he was too wary, she couldn't pull another move like she had before. She was stuck where she was at, he would surely pull the trigger the second she tried to move.

She looked around for help, but whatever patrons were left were frozen in fear- including Kurt Smoller, who is looking at her in drunken amazement.

"Why are you doing this?" Myka yelled at the man, and they began to walking a slow circle around one another, Myka working to create room so others could continue to escape.

"The Brotherhood has gotten too big for their britches," the man sneered, "It's time they're knocked down a few pegs- especially after the shite they pulled tonight. We know this is a place they like to do deals. We've already taken care of MacPherson and Sykes- Wells is next. So tell me, darlin' just who the hell are you?"

"Me?" Myka smiled sweetly, bringing her hand to her chest, "I'm just the bar tender."

"Bullshit!" He spat, "I've never seen a bar tender with moves like that. What are you, ex-military?"

"Girl's gotta have her secrets" Myka mumbled, but she's distracted now, she realized the gun currently being aimed at her is her own, and she just knows the man hasn't put a round in the chamber.

It's a risk.

A stupid risk. But one she now has to take.

She makes her move, running towards him, and he pulls the trigger. There's a click when there should be a bang, and the man looks down in surprise, scrambling to pull back the slide, but it's too late for him and suddenly the gun is knocked form his hand and he can taste blood is his mouth as an impact hits his chest.

It's the floor, he realizes after a dizzying moment, and his arm is being pulled back at a painful angle, and there is a painful pressure on the back of his neck.

And that's the scene that, once they burst through the door, guns raised, that Emily and Clair see. Myka, four dead men and one incapacitated under her boot, a handful of customers and Wolly staring at her, jaws dropped.

"What the bloody hell?"


	18. And then We Waited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy AU week

 

_Helena_

* * *

Helena's feet were moving before she knew what was happening. She had eyes only for Myka. There was glass being crushed under her heel, a babbling of voices erupted all around, all she saw was the heavy rise and fall of Myka's chest as she worked through the waning excitement to catch her breath, the trembling of her limbs as she continued to restrain the man on the floor, the unfathomable depth of emptions flashing rapidly across her face and in her eyes.

Time seemed to slow, all that existed were the two women whose eyes met over the chaotic remains of the club- the whole world could have been cracking to pieces around them, and yet all they would have seen was each other.

HG reached Myka, and immediately pulled her into a tight embrace, causing the other woman to release her hold on the man beneath her boot. Her nose buried in those riotous curls she knew now she couldn't live without- now that the threat of that possibility had been. She breathed her in, taking a moment to fully comprehend that Myka was still there, very much alive in her arms.

She pulled back, though her hands never left Myka, running over her arms, brushing her fingers before moving to either side of her face, forcing Myka to maintain eye contact with her, "Are you alright?"

Myka's face flushed slightly as she opened her mouth, blinking heavily as she seemed to struggle to speak, "I… think so… the adrenaline seems to be fading…" she trailed off.

The last man standing- well  _laying_  had risen to his feet and tried to make a break for the door, but was met by a very pissed off Clair with no out let to her feelings of anxiety and worry- he was very quickly laying in a pool of his own blood once more. Being bested twice by women half his size had tested his ego to the limits and he decided to stay down now. Not that anyone really noticed, at least HG And Myka didn't seem to, lost in their own world that they found in each other's eyes.

"Don't ever do that to me again." HG whispered harshly through her teeth, her thumbs brushing over Myka's cheek bones.

Myka swallowed before answering, "Do what?"

"Scare me like that," she clarified, eyes softening, "My heart can't take much more."

Their mouths were a mere breath away, and Helena found herself falling into the promise Myka's seemed to offer, damn the consequences of allowing herself such comforts. In that moment she was more than willing to risk everything she had ever built for one kiss. In that moment, there was only them.

"And what am I, chopped liver?" and also Wolly.

Myka and HG pulled away from each other, the world suddenly roaring back into life around them. Myka blushed and looked away, releasing Helena of the hold her eyes had over her.

"I'll have you know," Wolly went on as if he wasn't the corporeal manifestation of a major cock block, "I myself was thrown by a large oaf and threatened with my life right alongside everyone else, and I think I provided an excellent distraction for our dear Myka to, you know,  _kill_  everyone."

"Sorry, Wolly," HG rolled her eyes before moving reluctantly from Myka's side to gather her friend in a hug, "I'm sure you were quite brave and I thank you."

"Your sarcasm is appreciated," Wolly laughed, "I'll remember it next time someone you care about tells me to run and save my own ass and I stay to risk my life to help."

"Are you alright?" Helena asked, smiling as she gave him a quick once over with her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll live," he brushed her off, "Nice to know you care though."

"I think you two spend too much time together any way," the smile in Myka's voice was evident, and Helena didn't have to turn around to know it was there.

"What makes you say that?" Wolly demanded, grabbing possessively onto HG once more so she couldn't turn away from her.

"Well she's starting to pick up on your accent…" HG pulled away from Wolly once more, and they exchanged a fearful glance, realizing Helena, in the excitement of it all, hadn't been faking her accent, "She's either gotten really good at it, or I am really losing a lot of blood."

Helena spun around just in time to see Myka fall to her knees, she fell beside her, keeping her from crumpling completely to the ground, "Unless… were you mocking him? Because, let me tell you, when  _you_  do the English accent thing, it's kinda sexy… what am I saying?"

"Myka, where were you hit?" HG tried to keep the other woman focused.

"My shoulder hurts," Myka looked down in confusion as she pulled her hand away from said shoulder, it came away glistening red, "What the hell?"

"Have you been shot?" Helena's voice shot through two octaves as she tried to get a better look. The dim lighting of the club coupled with the dark color of Myka's shirt had hidden the bleeding she could now see was quite serious, and the adrenaline had clearly hidden the pain of it until now as Myka's face contorted slightly.

"I guess I did…" Myka tried to shrug, but it was aborted with a small grunt of pain, "I don't really remember… there was this one guy with a gun, but I hit him with a bottle."

"Fucking hell Myka!"

"See, there's that accent again." Myka smiled, "You really gotta stop doing that…"

The front entrance to the club was shoved open once more, flash light beams fell over them, "Holy shit!"

Helena looked over her shoulder to find two police detectives she recognized, Sykes' girl Stokowski and her newest partner- they were the ones tasked with "busting" the drug deal earlier in the evening, Helena recalled.

"Myka?" the male police officer's face paled as he stepped forward.

"Jinksey!" Myka called out with a drunken smile, "I got shot."

"What the hell happened?" he demanded, coming to a stop beside HG, glancing around with his gun and flash light still raised, prepared for more trouble it seemed.

"You two know each other?" Sally and HG spoke at the same time.

"She lives in my building," Steve explained with a small nod and a serious look at Myka, or maybe it was a concerned look.

"He's gay." Myka explained in a whisper that wasn't all that quiet.

"Thanks Mykes." Steve rolled his eyes, "That's very helpful."

"This is all very interesting, but we need to get her to a hospital,  _now_." HG could now see the blood streaming down Myka's arm, her shirt soaked through.

"No one is going anywhere just yet," Stokowski barked, eyes still moving over every corner of the room, "Not until someone tells me what the fuck happened here."

"You listen to me, Sally Stokowski," HG was on her feet, having gently shifted Myka to Steve's lap, she was in the shorter woman's face in a matter of seconds, "I am getting that woman to a hospital before she bleeds out on the floor, and you are not going to stop me."

"Mr. Sykes has asked me to insure that everything here goes smoothly," the cops' voice was nearly menacing as she held strong under a glare that had sent weaker men running for the hills, "And I am not beyond having to use force to do so."

"You call your boss," Helena's voice dropped to a whisper so Steve and Myka couldn't hear, "You call Mr. Sykes, and you tell him that Emily Lake is here, calling on a favor, and see what your boss tells you then."

Sally squinted, trying to figure out if this woman was important, if she should know who Emily Lake was. The truth was, she didn't know, and she wasn't going to take any chances pissing off someone more powerful than her, so she nodded, pulling her phone out, "Don't go anywhere."

As the blonde walked a few feet away to make her call, HG turned back to find Clair had joined Steve and Myka on the floor, keeping pressure on Myka's wounds while Steve kept his gun trained on the last Irishman.

"What's your name?" He heard Steve ask her right hand woman, "Sorry, you just look really familiar and it is driving me insane."

"Clair," the woman offered, "Clair Donovan."

"No way," Steve broke out into an adorable smile that didn't belong on a full grown man in a policeman's uniform, "My best friend has the same name!"

"Clair?" she quirked an eyebrow, but didn't take her focus way form Myka's injury.

"No,  _Donovan,_ " he explained with a small shake of his head and a smile, "Her name is-,"

"Oh my god, she is going to be so mad at me." Myka grumbled, her eyes slipping shut, "She's going to kill me for sure when she sees…"

"Who?" Clair demanded, still feeling protective.

"Donovan must be a common last name." Wolly offered, as he spoke only to Jinks, "What was yours? Jinksey?"

" _Jinks_ ," Steve corrected with a blush, "It's Steve Jinks."

"William Wollcott," Wolly smiled, "Though this lot seems content with calling me Wolly. You could too, if you want." He winked.

"Gag me." Clair rolled her eyes, "Who is going to kill you, Myka?"

"She's going to be mad." Myka explained, "Something about MCD and OTP and a lot of other letters I don't really understand…"

" _Who?_ " it took all of Clair's self-control not to shake the woman.

"Claud-,"

"My apologies,  _Ms. Lake_ ," Sally returned behind her suddenly, and HG had to fight not to react, "Mr. Sykes has… explained the situation. Steve will escort you all to Univille General, and I will detain the last perp and… contain the scene."

She was keeping up pretenses, but HG could see the fear and realization on the other woman's features as she stared almost reverently at her.

"Thank you, Ms. Stokowski," HG dropped the fake accent, lowering her voice so only Sally could hear, "And I'd have you know that you are now privileged with information  _very few_  people know. Take care than none else find out, darling."

"O-of course not." Sally assured her.

"Good." She turned away once more, this time approaching the small group of people, kneeling beside Myka, "Steve is going to take us to the hospital now."

"I  _hate_  hospitals," Myka protested, "I'm fine. It's just… it's just a little bullet." She insisted.

"That may be the case, nut it seems to be doing quite a bit of damage," HG wrapped her arm around Myka's waist before standing, pulling the other woman up right with her, "So either you will go willingly or unconsciously."

* * *

_Myka_

* * *

Time was moving very strangely for Myka.

There would be times, like when Emily was holding her tightly, staring in her eyes, that it almost seemed to stop completely and wait for them.

Then it was moving too fast, and she couldn't follow what was happening, like everyone around her was speaking a language she hadn't ever heard before, moving too quickly for her to follow or remember.

And being at the hospital was not helping in the least.

It was absolute insanity in the emergency room. There was blood and screaming, people demanding to be seen and nurses scrambling to find beds and doctors for all the patients pouring through the door.

Myka almost felt bad for adding to the crazy. So she sat quietly, telling Emily softly that it was going to be okay. But the more she said it, the more panicked the other woman seemed to grow, until Myka closed her eyes, deciding to take a nap… just for a moment…

Pain rocketed through her chest and she was suddenly  _very_  much awake.

"Ow," she complained, coughing and struggling to sit up. When had she laid down on a bed?

"Myka Ophelia Bering what did I tell you about scaring me?" a tear filled voice demanded, and Myka let her head roll until she was staring up at a blurry Emily.

"To not to?" she asked softly.

"That's right," she nodded, "So you stay awake, you hear me?"

"I'll try." Myka promised.

"We have to move her, ma'am," a nurse broke in, looking fearful of her, whatever had happened while Myka was out clearly put the people around her into motion, she was almost sad to have missed it, "We have more emergency cases coming through, and she made it through the surgery okay-,"

"I had surgery?" Myka demanded, glaring at the poor nurse who looked like he wanted nothing more than to be far away from both of them.

"You signed a form," he struggled to explain, "It was an emergency, you were losing blood and we had to get the bullet out- you had coded-,"

"Twice." Emily provided helpfully, "Once before surgery and once more just now when you were coming out of the anesthesia."

"Sorry," she mumbled, her eyes already feeling heavy once more.

"Any way, like I said, we have to move her to a room." He rocked form one foot to the other, "There's no private rooms left, but I can find one that only has one or two roommates…"

"That's fine." Myka assured him when it seemed Emily was about to argue with him.

"I'm going to find where Wolly and Clair disappeared to," she spoke softly, "Then this helpful nurse will tell me where he has taken you, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, go find them… hey, was that the loss of blood or was Wolly flirting with Steve?"

"Well, its Wolly, so most likely yes, he was flirting," Emily rolled her eyes.

"I didn't know he was gay." Myka frowned.

"He's not," Emily shrugged, "We don't know quite  _what_  Wolly is, actually. But when he sets his sights on someone, well…"

Myka smiled, "I get it."

"Do you?" humor sparked in Emily's eyes, chasing some of the worry away at last.

"Mhm, go find your friends, I'll be fine," Myka shooed her away, and after a moment, she complied.

"I'll find you, I promise." She assured before walking away.

"No offense," the nurse sighed as he took the locks off the bed's wheels, pushing Myka to a set of double doors, "But your girlfriend is, like,  _really_  scary."

"She's not my girlfriend," Myka frowned at the slight pain in her chest that came with saying those words out loud, "We just… we just work together."

"Huh, could have fooled me," he shrugged, "Especially with how protective she's been over you. I'm going to have a few more grey hairs after tonight."

Myka smiled, but let their trip continue in silence, trying to figure out what was happening in her chest, the heavy feeling that was threatening to crush her.

"Mykes!" a voice croaked out when they finally reached the room Myka was to stay in, "Oh my god, Myka!" the first was echoed by a feminine second.

Myka looked up, the room only held two other beds, one of them had Pete, hooked up to several machines, half naked with white gauss wrapped around him. On the other was Rebecca, dressed in her under cover get up with cool wraps around her neck.

"What the hell happened to you?" she demanded, finding the strength to sit up as the nurse positioned her bed between theirs.

"I see you all know each other," he smiled, seeming relieved, "I'll send Ms. Lake back here soon."

They lapsed into silence until he left them alone.

"Seriously, what the hell?" she looked at them both in turn.

"I was strangled by and angry Irishman." Rebecca shrugged nonchalantly, her voice straining slightly.

"I was shot by one." Pete added, gesturing to his chest.

"Hey, me too." She smiled at him, nodding to her sling encased arm.

"Do we know why?" Rebecca asked.

"Something about a drug bust gone wrong." Claudia was standing in the door way of their room, her hair a mess, her face blotchy and tear stained while her eyes were still wide with panic and fear.

"Are you okay?" Myka sat up, "Are the others?"

"They're fine," she walked forward, her hands in her pockets, "I'm fine. You three were the only ones hurt."

"They were after MacPherson's daughter." Pete grimaced, "If it wasn't for the metal plate on my rib cage they would have killed me to do it, too. Never thought I would be thankful for war wounds…"

"They were trying to harm Sykes bottom line," Rebecca's upper lip twisted in disgust, "My guess is money is all he has that he cares about."

"They were looking for HG Wells," Myka added, "Guess no one told him the guy's a ghost. So what happened?"

Claudia looked over her shoulder at the door, taking a few steps closer and lowering her voice, "Jack was with his drug pals, at some grand revealing of a new drug. But he was getting a bad- what do you guys call it?"

"A bad vibe?" Pete asked, for once not begrudging the fact that he and Jack had the same almost sixth sense.

"Right, a bad vibe," she nodded, "And he told the two guys he was with to pull out, but then the cops swooped in and there was bullets flying-,"

"Is Jack okay?" Rebecca demanded, shooting up, all pain forgotten as she tried to get out of the bed.

"Whoa, whoa!" Claudia put her hands out, halting her progress, "Jack is fine, he was in county lock up for a little bit, but he got off the charges. Something about no intent to buy…"

"They were talking about it being a set up." Rebecca frowned, "Something about Sykes playing a game…"

"Yeah, the guy said MacPherson was trying to pull some shit tonight." Pete nodded.

"The Brotherhood," Myka whispered, "That's what this is about. We're focused on them because they are the obvious hand in this town. But they aren't the only driving force. The smaller gangs are clearly ready to over through the kings…"

"What does any of this mean?" Claudia asked, her voice small.

The agents all exchanged a look, "Something tells me life in this town is about to change."


	19. What Are the Chances?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy AU Week

_Helena_

* * *

Helena found her way to the hospital room it was promised would find Myka in. She entered listening to drunken laughter. The sight she found was a balm to her aching heart. In the time they spent apart, HG was afraid that something would happen, the night was just insane enough that she couldn’t trust everything not to go to hell on a moment’s notice.

 

Her heart gave a thump at seeing a smiling Myka sitting up and talking. She had this theory, one she wasn’t too keen on testing out any time soon, but it went something like, Myka would always be okay as long as she either stayed far, far away from Helena for the rest of her life, or else never left her sight.

She could feel the clock ticking on the innocence surrounding them. Soon, Helena would have to tell Myka the truth.

Then she noticed who she was sitting between and was brought up short. The man, dressed in a blue hospital gown, hanging open to reveal white wrappings around his chest, she recognized as the security she had signed over to MacPherson for his daughter’s personal security.

And the woman, dressed in a white button down that was actually tied around her to reveal a bare midriff and left unbuttoned to show off ample amounts of cleavage, there was bruising on her knuckles, and peaking out from bandages around her throat. It was Rebecca St. Clair, Sykes newest investment.

All the while, Myka looking at each of them with fondness in her eyes, because despite the fact that they were most definitely in sad shape, they were smiling at one another and laughing.

Helena felt like she was intruding on a moment, an outsider to whatever joke she missed that had Myka smiling, rolling her eyes with an exasperated, “Oh my god, guys.” She was getting ready to back out of the room, tail tucked and sulking for reasons she couldn’t fathom when she was jostled from behind.

“Oh frack, I’m so sorry,” a voice apologized quickly, drawing the attention of the patients in the room to the door.

A shorter redhead had been looking down at some device in her hand as she walked, turning to walk into the hospital room without looking up to make sure the way was clear. She froze, looking up at HG with a strange gleam of recognition in her eyes.

“You’re-,” she began, and HG thought her heart would stop, because she too felt as if she should recognize this girl, but she oculdn’t be sure how, what if she knew her secret? What if she knew who she really was? What if-

“Emily!” Myka called out with a smile, “You came back.”

HG forced a smile, turning her face away from inquisitive eyes to the glazed over look of near adoration currently focused on her, “And I see someone gave you drugs.”

She shrugged and her head bobbed, seeming as if it just might be detacheable, “The nurse came in with drugs for Becks and Pete, and he gave me some so.” She giggled.

“You’re the famous Emily,” the redhead seemed to remember her voice then, and she moved around HG with her hand held out, “I live with these drunk goofs behind me. I’m Claudia.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Helena smiled,  _but is this the first time? And is this the only name you know me by?_

“Em,” Myka sung out, trying to reclaim her attention, “Emilyyy, you have to meet them.” She gestured to the equally inebriated people beside her, “This is Pete and Becks.” She gestured to them in turn, “They’re my housemates.”

Knowing a bit of what was going on between the two women, mostly what her best friend was feeling at least, Rebecca, who was never a fan of drugs, decided to try and be helpful in the only way her undercover persona knew how, “Really, Mykes? Just friends?” she pouted a little, sticking her lower lip out and leaning suggestively towards Myka’s bed, “Here I thought we were closer than that. Especially after that night-,”

“Thank you, Rebecca!” Myka cut her off sharply, her face flushing a bright red.

Helena had to fight not to react visibly, but on the inside, she felt as if there was a spikey ball stuck in her chest. It was terribly unpleasant, and came with a hefty dose of anger. It took her a moment, but she realized that it was jealously she was feeling. And that was just… odd. Helena hadn’t ever been jealous in her life.

“She’s joking,” Myka tried to reassure her, but all HG could manage was a tight lipped smile and a nod.

“You have to excuse Rebecca,” Claudia laughed nervously, walking to the other redhead’s bed, kicking it slightly and causing the woman to fall back to the pillows, “She’s an idiot, but she’s ours.”

“Please,” she snorted, “Pete is clearly our token idiot.”

“Hey! I think I resent that!” Pete, who had been on the edge of sleep, sat up and glared at the woman.

Claudia sighed heavily, “And your guys are supposed to be the responsible adults,” she rolled her eyes and gave HG a shy smile as if trying to put her at ease. It was such a small broken smile and Helena was hit with an emotion she didn’t understand. Why would she want to protect and care for this young woman when she had no idea who she even was?

“Hello? Is this the right room?” an easily recognizable voice spoke out, “He- oh, hey Em, I  _told_  Wolly I would find you first.”

HG turned to see Clair’s smirking face and – bloody hell. Holy fucking shit. There it was. There was the reason that Helena found the young woman familiar now. It was so easy now that they were in the same room, both giving crooked smiles at her.

They had said they had a friend with the same name as Clair, hadn’t they? HG just didn’t think they were talking about last names. Donovan. Clair and Claudia Donovan. Her friend told her that she had had a sister once, a brother too, that she lost them in California. And now here they were, twelve years later, standing in the same hospital room, and by the looks they were giving a gaping HG neither woman realized.

“Clair,” HG finally choked out, trying to convey more with her eyes than she could with her words, “These are Myka’s house mates, Peter Lattimer, Rebecca St. Clair and Claudia Donovan.”

To an outsider, someone who didn’t know Clair, there was no visible reaction to these introductions. But, HG saw as Claudia gave a small awkward wave, there was a slight tightening around her eyes, a pained look and a sharp intake of breath.

HG couldn’t tell if Clair even recognized her own sister, or if she just figured this was another girl the same age with the same name and it brought back painful memories.

“It’s,” she cleared her throat when the word came out a squeak, “It’s nice to meet you. Nice to know Myka actually has friends, I mean I’ve only ever seen that girl work.” She slowly got more comfortable talking, but her eyes were glassy, and HG had the sneaking suspicion that it was taking her friend every strength to not react to Claudia’s presence.

Helena looked longingly at Myka, but found the brunette to have slipped into a slumber, “It’s really been lovely, Claudia,” HG smiled, whispering so as not to wake the woman, “But I’d better go see about talking to those waiting police officers.”

Claudia nodded, looking strangely at Clair, who HG could now see was being less and less conspicuous about her over whelming feelings.

“Come, Clair,” HG nudged her, physically turning the girl towards the door when she didn’t move.

As soon as they were in the early dawn light, HG stopped at a bench a little away from the walk way, pulling Clair to sit beside her. The woman was hyperventilating, tears springing to her eyes as her arms wrapped tightly around her chest, a choked sobbing noise bubbling in her throat.

Helena felt as if she was swallowing a dull knife as she wrapped her arms around Clair and held her close, murmuring nonsense to try and sooth her, running her fingers through her hair, “Shhh, it’ll be okay. It’ll be okay.”

This happened from time to time. Clair could go weeks as the happy go lucky, albeit a bit psychotic woman that HG knew and loved, and then something would happen. Helena had learned the different triggers, one song that had been on the radio ten years ago, being restrained, being forced to recollect anything from the time before Helena knew her- these things and half a dozen more would send the poor woman spiraling into a catatonic state.

“My sister,” she hiccupped into Helena’s shoulder, “That’s my sister. She’s alive. She’s here. My-my baby sister…”

“Yes, she is,” Helena agreed, allowing Clair to stain her shirt with her tears as she tried to calculate odds in her head.

What were the chances that of all the people Myka could have befriended after running away, that she would happen across, that she would live with a crooked cop and a madame who worked for Sykes, a body guard for MacPherson’s daughter and her own bodyguards long lost sister. How many coincidences was that?

And then, what were the chances that she herself would find Myka?

“What are the chances indeed.”

* * *

_ Myka _

* * *

 

Myka was woken up by a dinging noise in her head. She groaned, the effects of the painkillers having warn off, and she could feel the ache in her arm, not as bad as she expected however. The wonders of modern medicine, the salve they had applied to her shoulder seemed to be doing its job healing her up quickly.

 

But that didn’t stop the sharp migraine drilling through her skull, something that most definitely wasn’t helped by the pinging sound her AI was making to wake her up.

“What?” She demanded quietly after realizing she was surrounded by sleeping bodies in her hospital room.

“ _I’ve been digging into hive records for you._ ” MARLE also whispered, though why Myka had no clue when she was the only one who could hear her.

“Why on earth were you doing that?” Myka rubbed he eyes and absently wondered at the time.

“ _You asked me to_.” Her voice rang with confusion.

“When did I-?” Myka shook her head- big mistake, “MARLE, we’re investigating the Brotherhood, not the Hive.”

“ _Yes, I understand, but the night Ms. Lake told you about her experience with the hive controlled state, you asked me to look into it._ ”

“The senator,” Myka understood suddenly, “So he was actually involved with the mob then.”

“ _Is, he is involved with the mob, and he is still the senator of Wisconsin.”_  MARLE informed her, “ _He has a clean record, but that is hardly surprising,”_ she snorted,  _“But there are records of everyone who worked for him ten years ago. There is no Emily Lake on any of the records though._ ”

“Well,” Myka scratched the back of her head, “She was on the run, maybe she changed her name? Is there anyone who worked there for a few months and then left unexpectedly? Someone who would have direct contact with the Senator?”

 _“There were quite a few who that description fits,_ ” MARLE warned, “ _Lana Fairfield, Tristan Yates, Helena-_ ,”

“I get it MARLE,” Myka interrupted, “I’ll talk to Claudia tomorrow, and we’ll figure you more criteria to narrow the search. And she probably has a new upgrade for you anyway. After the night we had- that girl really is very paranoid about losing us.”

“ _She has reason_.” MARLE defended, it seemed all the AI’s were fond of the hacker.

“We all have reason.” Myka sighed, feeling her exhaustion fall back on her, she chuckled in her delirium, “Maybe if we can trace some of the names she might have used while she was running we can trace it back. Hmmm… If I was Emily Lake, what aliases would I use? Hmm, she loves books, classic books.”

“ _Jules Vern, Marry Shelly, H.G. Wells,_ ” MARLE listed.

Myka snorted as she drifted, “She hates Vern, but HG Wells… that would be my guess, but what are the odds she would have picked the same name as the phantom mobster?”

“ _One to the seven thousandth-,”_

“I meant that you can scratch that name off the list too,” Myka yawned, “I mean, really, what are the chances?”


	20. Reprecussions

_Myka_

* * *

 

“Whoa, it’s almost like nothing happened.” Myka looked around in awe at Instinct, half as full as it usually was at this time of night.

“I could say the same,” a mischievous voice had Myka spinning with a smile on her face, finding Wolly grinning at her, “Wow, Mykes, weren’t you just bleeding out on the floor over there?”

Myka rolled her eyes, “Too soon, Wollcott.” She huffed bu allowed the man to pull her in for a tight hug.

“It’s good to see you up and about,” he stepped closer as the crowd of people pushed around them, the music increasing in volume, “But should you really be back here so soon?”

“Hey, a girl’s gotta make a living somehow, my room definitely isn’t going to pay for itself.” She nudged him with her shoulder, shoving her hands into the ridiculously tight pockets of her jeans, hoping to seem nonchalant.

Truth be told, they had been ordered by the warehouse to return to active duty as soon as possible, otherwise they would be removed from their positions. The agents thought that was a bit harsh, but the Regents had reiterated that they couldn’t lose any footing in this case, not when they were all almost nearly in place to take it all down.

The last thing Myka, or any of them, wanted was to be shipped back to New York. So, two days after the incident, Rebecca returned to her club and got it up and running once more. Jack was back to working as a drug dealer on the streets, though there was talk of him being promoted after saving them from landing themselves in jail. Steve and Sally seemed to be closer now, working around the clock on bringing in members of the other gangs. It took Myka a week to heel from her gunshot wound, even with the advances in modern medicine, there were something’s that Vanessa Calder just couldn’t rush, like the healing of the damaged muscles. She supposed it could be worse, Pete had another week of bed rest- if everything went well.

“I’m sure Em would have let you have a few more weeks, you got shot, Myka.” He frowned disapprovingly as he eyed her shoulder.

“I’m not a charity case, Wolly,” Myka scoffed, “I should get behind the counter- are you working tonight?”

“No, no, not tonight. Well, not here anyway.” He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, “I’m at the diner tonight, so stop by when you guys close up shop, yeah?”

“Sure sure,” Myka nodded with a smile, waving awkwardly as she stepped backwards towards the bar.

She saw Wolly shake his head once more before he was swallowed by the ocean of bar patrons, only to turn and find am much better vision before her.

Emily was behind the bar, and Myka stopped for a moment to just watch her. Admiring the easy way she moved behind the bar, all confidence and swagger as she laughed with patrons and mixed drinks with an ease that came with years of practice.

Beauty and graze was all she was, she exuded it, nearly, but not completely, covering up what Myka could detect just below the surface. The way her lipstick stained lips curved up, but the expression refused to meet her tired eyes, normally lit with a mischievous fire.

There was a heavy wariness that hadn’t been there before. She watched people out of the corner of her eye, she systematically checked her surroundings, sending looks at Clair, who sat on a stool, leaning on the bar flirting with some awkward, flustered looking patron. She didn’t seem comforted with whatever she was seeing. Even less so when her eyes finally landed on Myka.

She had a look of initial shock, followed quickly by joy, then frustration. By the time Myka made it behind the bar beside her, Emily’s arms were crossed over her chest, her foot tapping as she glared at the taller woman.

“Miss me?” Myka asked, only half joking. She hadn’t seen or heard from Emily since the hospital. She couldn’t remember much from the state she was in, but she didn’t think anything had happened that warranted this new distance between them.

“Myka, you shouldn’t be here.” She shook her head, looking over Myka’s shoulder at Clair once more.

“I’ll take that as a no then.” Myka rolled her eyes, trying not to show the hurt she was feeling as she pulled out the black half apron from under the counter.

“No, what? Of course I missed you,” Emily scrambled, back tracking over her words in a hurry, “What I meant was that you should be home recuperating after what you’ve only just been through.”

“I’m fine, Em,” Myka huffed, struggling to tie the strings behind her back.

Emily took a step forward towards MYka suddenly, and the agent froze as her hand puled the strap of Myka’s shirt to the side to reveal where she had been shot, now a small, nearly healed, slightly puckered scar. Careful fingers traced it slowly, and Myka shivered.

The movement seemed to bring Emily back around, and she shook herself, pulling back once more, “You didn’t have to come in, Myka. Healed or not, you’ve been through an ordeal, you should be home resting.”

“Come on, Em,” Myka stepped towards her, and was thrilled when she didn’t pull back, “I’ve been bed ridden for a week. I am going stir crazy.” She tried to laugh, but Emily seemed stubbornly set on staying serious.

“Myka, you need to listen to me,” she lowered her voice so Myka had to struggle to hear it over the music, “It isn’t safe to be out anymore. Maybe you shouldn’t be-,”

“Don’t,” Myka cut her off suddenly, seeing the fear Emily had in her eyes, fear for Myka, “Tell me what’s going on. What has you so freaked out that even though we haven’t’ spoken in a week, you’re still trying to push me out the door.” Much as she tried, the stung tone couldn’t be kept completely out of Myka’s words.

Emily ran a hand through her hair before grabbing Myka’s arm and tugging her closer so she could speak quieter, “Something is going on, I’m not sure what…” she seemed to be struggling to find words, something Myka had never seen her do, “There’s tension, now more than ever, between the Brotherhood and what’s left of the smaller gangs. And I don’t want you caught in the middle of it.”

Though Myka was touched by Emily’s concern, it only spurred on her own. She had accepted that sticking around now wasn’t just about her job, wasn’t just about tearing down this corrupt system. It was about protecting this beautiful woman who seemed to always be too close to the danger for Myka’s liking.

“Don’t you think that’s a decision I have to make for myself, Em?” she pushed back, “Besides, I thought this place was under some sort of protection form MacPerson?”

Emily shifted uncomfortably, “I’m afraid that’s not completely true. As if your shooting wasn’t proof of that enough. It isn’t safe, especially not here and especially for you.”

Myka stood straighter, trying not to reveal how panicked she suddenly was.  _Especially_ for her? What did that mean? Did Emily figure out that she was an agent? Did someone else know and that’s why she was in more danger? That didn’t really make sense. If anyone knew, if Myka’s cover was blown, the shit surely would have already hit the fan.

“What are you talking about?” Myka’s voice was huskier with holding back panic.

“Myka, there’s something I think that we really need to talk about,” Emily’s grip on her arm tightened, but it didn’t seem to be out of anger, merely intensity, “And it’s about you, your friends,  _my_ friends-,”

 “Myka!” the brunette froze as her own name reached her ears. She wanted to simultaneously kiss and kill the interrupter, because as soon as Kurt stumbled to a stop at their end of the bar, Emily’s walls snapped back up in an instant and she was back to expressions that didn’t reach her eyes as she took a step back to put space between them once more.

She was afraid of what her friend had to tell her, she was so serious and Myka was worried that this little charade of hers was about to come to an end. But it wasn’t often that Emily opened up to her, and now that they had an audience, she took a step back, putting distance back between them.

“I should… check in with the customers.” She mumbled before stepping around Myka and back into her role as bar tender, and Myka let her go.

She wasn’t ready to tell Emily everything. That was putting so much on the other woman- to make that decision for her in forcing her to be Myka’s one. Because one was all she got, right? That’s what the rule was, they get one person to tell everything to. And Emily was stressing enough over just the Brotherhood and its skirmishes. What would she do knowing there was a full blown war on the horizon?

“What are you doing back at work?” Kurt’s words brought her back to the present, causing her to roll her eyes, “Is Lake making you be here? I’ll talk to her, you shouldn’t have to-,”

“Whoa, Kurt, slow down.” Myka put her hands up, “No one is making me be here. And if you didn’t notice from the last time we saw each other, I can take care of myself just fine.”

“Right,” he scratched the back of his neck absently, “I was actually going to ask you how you were doing-,”

“I’m fine, as you can see,” she gestured to herself.

“No I know,” it almost looked like he was blushing, “How did you do that anyway? Fight off all those guys? What did you even do before all this?”

 _Shit,_  Myka blanked for a moment, “Well, I uh, don’t really like to talk about it, you understand. But, I was… a bartender before, but it wasn’t at a place like Instinct. My job was first and foremost… entertainment. And when customers got handsy- well, me and the other girls had to learn how to defend ourselves, didn’t we?”

Myka didn’t know if that was her set backstory, no one had really asked her about it, questioned her presence here. And even with her eidetic memory, she couldn’t be sure if she was remembering hers or Rebecca’s back story, they had both been so similar.

“Guess you were quite the badass, huh,” he smiled, “Guess Emily’s lucky you left and came here then.”

“Right,” Myka looked at the woman once more, sighing heavily,  _yeah, we’ll see how much luck I brought her when it all comes out._

* * *

_HELENA_

* * *

Helena hadn’t been this afraid of the safety of another human being since Clair, and before that…

 

She could feel the tension crackling around her, in the increased security, the way MacPherson and Sykes hadn’t been seen in a week. Clair was on edge constantly now, HG didn’t even want to think about how many weapons were currently on the girl.

They were standing on the precipice of war, each side waiting for the other to flinch first in this standoff. It would only take something small to tip them in one direction or the other. One wrong word, false move, and hell would break lose.

It wasn’t even a matter of if, but when. And who would fall and who would rise and what bodies would be left behind in the wake of destruction and inevitable anarchy.

 Myka… oh Myka.

She seemed so hell bent on being in the middle of everything, how what Helena supposed to protect her if she was standing so close to one of the main targets? How could she continue to lie to Myka and expect her to understand why she was so rightly worried for her?

The answer was simple: she couldn’t.

She either had to come clean, or finally distance herself from the other woman.

Both options were incredibly painful, but which was a pain she could live with?

* * *

_KURT_

* * *

“Alright!” Kurt yanked his arms free, “Enough already! Do you mind explaining to me why you’re pulling me around, huh? What did I do?”

 

“Sit,” Marcus barked, pointing at a metal fold out chair.

Kurt sat, refusing to admit it was because he withered under the twin glares he was receiving from Marcus and Nate.

“Okay, I’m sitting, no tell me why you drug me away from a good night out?” he worked to keep his bravado up, “I was finally getting somewhere with my girl-,”

“You’re girl, that wouldn’t happen to be Myka Bering, would it?” the voice from the other side of the room that came with a lamp lighting startled Kurt.

“No,” he tried, but now that James MacPherson was also staring him down, Kurt shrunk back, “I mean yeah, I was… I was talking to her at the bar.” How were they going to react him defying a direct order to leave Myka alone?

“She’s a bartender at Instinct, right?” Walter Sykes spoke from the dark to the left of Kurt before he also was illuminated at last. He had to give it to them, the creep factor was strong here, “One of our clubs?”

“Yeah, for a couple months or so now,” he nodded, wondering what their sudden interest in her was.

“She was there when it was attacked, was she not?” MacPherson asked, not waiting for an answer, “What else do you know about her?”

“She was a dancer before she came here, something about an entertainment barn, I don’t know,” Kurt shook his head, “What is this about?”

“Can we trust her? Does she know when to keep her mouth shut?” Sykes pressed.

“Yeah, but I don’t…?” Kurt shook his head, not able to follow where this was going, “I don’t understand sir, I thought she was off limits?”

“We need her this Friday. We need a few dancers to entertain some of our clients we’re going to recruit for this impending disaster.” MacPherson seemed to be picking his words carefully, “She’s of interest to an important peer.”

“But you said Wells-,” Kurt could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

“Wells was out voted.” Sykes snapped.

“We need Myka and a few other girls who we can trust to know when to shut up and to keep quiet about things that they might see or over hear.” MacPherson cut in smoothly.

“I don’t know if I can ask her to do that.” Kurt shook his head,

“You will do this, Smoller,” Sykes growled again, nodding to Marcus who dropped a heavy hand on Kurt’s shoulder, “Or this cozy life you’re living will get a little more difficult. Do you understand?”

“Ye-yes.” He swallowed.

“Good to hear you’re on board.” Sykes’ smile was wide and false like a snakes, “Tell her whatever you must, just get her on board.”

“Right.” Kurt jumped to his feet.

“If you do this,” MacPherson spoke once more, “Perhaps we’ll consider resending our decision regarding your’s and her’s relationship.”

Kurt felt a spark of hope, a brief encouragement to do this, and so he nodded, and walked a bit easier out of the office building and into the night.

On the one hand, this would be putting the girl he liked in danger.

On the other, this could make Myka his at last.

 

The decision was quite easy in the end.


	21. Set Up

They stayed apart nearly the whole night, quite a feat when only given so much room to maneuver behind the bar. However, it seemed a force greater than gravity was hell bent to be sure they slowly worked their way back to one another, until the early hours of the morning when last call was made and their shoulders brushed against one another.

They hadn’t so much as looked at one another- at least at the same time- since Kurt had sauntered off in search of the bathroom hours earlier. And now, Myka blushed as Emily’s eyes drifted from her eyes to her lips.

“Myka-,”

“Emily-,”

They both started to speak at the same time, stopping short and laughing at it, and the awkward tension from earlier seemed to melt away in the air around them. Neither made another attempt to speak. Electricity sparked between them, heating up the already thin air, making the moment positively charged with a tension much preferable.

“Hey, Mykes, can I talk to you?”*

The women stepped apart quickly, as if having been caught doing something much worse than simply staring. Myka turned to address Kurt once more, and could swear she heard Emily mutter, “Are you fucking kidding me?” under her breath.

“We’re a bit busy here, Kurt.” Emily snapped when Myka’s mouth opened and no words came out. Myka was sick of getting whiplash between these two, both seeming helbent on interrupting each other.

Truth be told, she only minded when it was her time with Emily being encroached upon.

“Look, bitch,” Kurt’s steely eyes landed on Emily, causing Myka to bristle, “I was sent by MacPherson. This is family business, got it?” he leaned over the counter to increase the intensity of his glare, and Myka pushed back on his shoulder before she could stop herself.

Emily stepped forward quickly, but Myka stopped her as well.

“It’s okay, Em, I got it.” Myka assured her, waiting until the other bartend went to pour the regulars their last drinks of the evening before addressing the man currently sweating bullets all over her counter, “What is it Kurt?”

“I’ve been making my rounds with the boys,” he ran a hand through his hair, normally gelled into a college boy’s hair style, now sticking up at odd places and held there by sweat, “Keeping my ear to the ground for anything big going on. And... well, the bosses have been watching you.”

Myka started slightly when Emily flinched behind her, the glass in her hand shattering on the floor.

“ _Are you okay_?” Myka mouthed to her.

Emily nodded profusely as she scrambled to get a broom, apologizing to the patrons who were laughing at her act of klutziness.

Myka turned back to Kurt, “Oh?” she worked to keep her pitch normal and pull his attention back to her.

“Yeah, they like you and are willing to give you a chance,” Kurt nodded, trying to be nonchalant as he wiped his hands on his jeans, “They need you to help with something. They need a few girls to be entertainers at their meeting this Friday. And after the shit that went down here, they trust you can keep your mouth shut.”

“What kind of entertainment?” Myka asked, because she had her limits, there were something’s she would definitely refuse to do for the sake of her cover for a mission she hadn’t been updated on in months. She got hit on by sleezeballs, she gave up her life style, her story, she took a bullet for god’s sake.

She had to draw the line somewhere.

“Dancing, and they’ll pay you, more than what Emily does,” He nodded to the woman at the other end of the bar, quickly filling orders, “It’s just for one night, but this could open up so many doors for you, for us.”

“I don’t know, Kurt,” Myka sighed, tugging at the ends of her hair, playing up on her hesitation, secretly wondering how this opportunity had fallen in her lap seemingly out of nowhere.

“Come on, Mykes,” with his hands clasped on the bar, Kurt seemed to be literally begging her now, “I need this, my ass is on the line. MacPherson, Sykes and Wells will be there with some new clients. They need it to go well.”

Myka perked up at hearing that Wells planned to be there, no one had ever gotten a visual on the elusive third leader in the Brotherhood, perhaps this would be what broke everything open for them. Wither Wells existed, or he didn’t. And if that was the case, they could begin making their move, this could all end soon, and they could go back to being Agents instead of drug dealers, prostitutes, bartenders and body guards.

“Alright Kurt, just this once.” She nodded after a moment, “But you’ll owe me one.” Myka said sternly.

“You’re a life saver, Doll,” Kurt smiled, leaning over the bar to give Myka a quick peck and a wink.”

She resisted the urge to wipe her mouth the moment he turned and walked away.

“What was that about?” Emily slid next to her, a sour look on her face as her dark eyes followed Kurt’s path through the dance floor.

Myka blushed, before giving a shrug. Emily was the last person she wanted to know what she had just agreed to, “They want me to make drinks for a private party on Friday. I don’t know why they didn’t just ask you.”

Emily’s eyes flashed dangerously for a moment, then she blinked, and that burning fure was gone as she lifted a shoulder, “They probably knew I would tell them no. You can too, you know.” She twiddled her thumbs and looked up at Myka through her lashes, “You don’t have to do what they ask.”

“I want to be in good with the Brotherhood,” Myka sighed, “And if this is how I do it, so be it.” She set her jaw and nodded once.

“Well, don’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with…” Emily’s dark eyes softened with concern, and it melted Myka a bit, though she worked to hide it.

“Look at you, being all worried over little old me,” Myka bumped her hip into Emily’s, “No, no, it’s really adorable, actually.”

“Oh hush,” Emily blushed and rolled her eyes.

* * *

“MARLE.” Myka stood in her room, staring at the interactive wall in front of her, hands on hips, hair back and glasses on as she bit her lip and tilted her head, “Look up ‘erotic dancing’.”

 

“Do you really have to study for this?” Pete asked from where he stood leaning in her doorway, where he had located himself ever since she debriefed her team on what she had agreed to. He was going stir crazy being locked up, though Myka knew he had snuck out a couple times to go see Amanda.

“I don’t want to fuck this up, Pete.” Myka sighed as she sifted through the hundreds of results, skipping over what was obviously just porn, setting aside the more informative, technical files.

“Well, can I watch you practice?” Pete smiled devilishly.

“I thought told you that you’re not my type?” Myka moved to shut her door on her partner’s face, hearing him protest on the other side.

Rebecca sighed from where she sat against Myka’s headboard, hugging a pillow to her chest, her head drooping slightly out of exhaustion. Myka felt bad for taking away the few hours they had to actually sleep, but she felt she might really need Rebecca’s help. Or, at least Becks’ help. Since this insanity had all begun, she spent a lot of her investigation in gentlemen’s clubs and strip joints. Myka didn’t know where to start and when she began to panic, Rebecca offered her services and club for practice.

“They want a couple of my girls, too.” She nodded, “I’m trying to figure out which ones to send. I’m torn between these I can trust not to fuck this up for me, and the girls who really need the money.”

“Pick whoever won’t make it terribly obvious that I have no idea what I’m doing.” Myka suggested with a groan as she began watching several clips at a time.

She wasn’t worried so much about the upper body strength it would take, but looking like a fool on stage when she tried to pull off these sexy moves. She didn’t tend to do well with spotlights on her, and would probably use most of her concentration focusing on not throwing up all over the mob bosses.

“Don’t worry, babe,” Rebecca rolled off the bed and moved to stand behind Myka, fixing her posture like an oversized Barbie Doll, “After Beck’s five day crash course, you’ll be dancing like a pro.” She winked at her before moving to the closet, “And you’ll have to put these on,” she spoke after a few moments of rummaging around.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Myka’s jaw dropped.

“Nope,” Rebecca smiled, enjoying herself far too much, “This is what the girls wear. Plus, don’t you think high heels give you s sense of power?”

“Those aren’t high heels,” Myka grumbled, taking the red six inch stilettoes out of Rebecca’s hands, leaning on her friend to hook them on, “They’re weapons of torture.” She wobbled for a moment before shifting her balance.

“Maybe,” Rebecca allowed as her eyes slowly traced over Myka, finally meeting her eyes with a smirk, “But they make your legs look like sex, so it’s a fair trade, I’d say,”

“Oh shut up and show me what to do,” She rolled her eyes, trying to hide her blush.

From Sunday to Thursday, Myka practiced in all of her free time. She watched countless hours of different pole dancers and erotic dancers. Wore ridiculous heels everywhere, including the bar. And after work she spent most of the daylight hours in Becks’ club practicing with the other girls.

 By the time Friday came, she was feeling a nervous excitement, but confident in herself. Rebecca said she was a natural, taking to the stage like a seasoned dancer- much like she was supposed to be.

What actually helped her through most of the fear aspect of it all was Candy. Not the sweet, the dancer Rebecca seemed particularly fond of. She pulled Myka to the side the first day of practice at the club and gave her the best advice.

“Adopt a new persona when you go up there,” she shrugged, but her eyes looked haunted for a twenty year old, “When I’m on the stage, I’m not Taylor, the shy smart girl who had to drop out of school when the quarter back knocked her up. Up there, I’m Candy. You just… check out. And let someone else take over for a little bit.”

It was “fake it til you make it” on a whole other level, but it worked, and that was all that mattered.

Kurt was the designated driver to the gentlemen’s club on the nicer side of town where the meeting was taking place. He wasn’t allowed in the meeting, but they had him collect all the dancers and drop them off before sending him away _._

Myka was glad, feeling squeamish under his gaze already, and he couldn’t see anything with her sitting in a knee length trench coat. Having him there would be one more distraction she just didn’t need.

Myka peaked her head out from the prep area behind the stage, glancing around the swank room with interest. It was the nicest set up she’d seen thus far. It was obviously where the brotherhood did their entertaining for their high end clients.

MacPherson and Sykes were sitting at a booth up near the front of the stage, where five poles were set up. Myka looked to the other four girls, glad that she wouldn’t be by herself out there at least. But she knew her designated spot was front and center.

“MARLE,” she whispered to her AI, ducking back behind the thick curtain, working to control her breathing, “Turn video and audio surveillance off. I can’t risk having my nerves show through. Bedsides this is just recon, and there’s no reason to give Claudia and Pete a show.”

The only thing she wanted to have to worry about now was not falling in the ridiculous heels. She fluffed her curls for a moment as she paced a short distance, psyching herself up to slip into her stage persona, but something seemed to be missing and the other girls were shooting her sideling glances.

Then, music filled up the smoky air, and the switch was finally flipped in Myka. She gave into the illusion. The low lights, smoke filled room and hypnotic rhythm all played their part, and she stepped confidently out on to the stage, growing comfortable under the heat of the lights. Myka felt eyes on her, but her confident stride did not falter.

She took a breath as she wrapped her hands around the pole, before beginning the routine she’d developed, adapting it to the speed of the music playing. She focused on the movements of her hips, the physics of swinging herself carefully in a circle. She hummed the music unconsciously, willing herself to check out completely as she began her strip tease.

MacPherson and Sykes moved their eyes, which had been glued to the scantily clad girls on stage, to the approaching figures as they greeted the chief of police from the neighboring county, South Dakota’s new governor and the senator. They exchanged pleasantries, and Sykes was encouraged to see that they couldn’t seem to keep their eyes off of the night’s entertainment.

“Where’s Wells?” The governor asked with a smirk, he didn’t believe the phantom of a man existed, “Why has he not graced us with his presence?” he chuckled, nudging the senator with his shoulder.

“Sorry, I was running late.” A voice accompanied by the steady tapping of approaching high heeled boots reached them, and the three men froze.

The entrancing voice had Myka giving a cursory glance, the foreign accent lilting beautifully over the simple sentence. And what she saw almost broke her concentration completely. Clad in tight jeans, a black waist coat with her hair spilling in heavy waves over her shoulders, Emily Lake strode confidently towards the mobsters, a dark smirk in place.

Clair was right behind her, dressed in tight black jeans, and at least three visible weapons. Her hair pulled back in a tight pony tail as she watched the room warily.

 Myka shook her head, refusing to let this trip her up, not when she was trapped in the lion’s deb. She compartmentalized her feelings, took a breath and looked away, focusing on her dancing, forcing herself back into her stage persona.

“Ah, Wells, my old friend,” MacPherson greeted, “It’s good to see you in your element.”

 

Emily Lake. Emily Fucking Lake, the sweet, but bad ass bar tender, gave MacPherson a familiar hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *this is the last time Kurt will be interrupting i think


	22. Pleased to Meet You

Helena understood very well the importance of power. She knew firsthand the difference between those who had it and those who didn’t. It was a long difficult journey between being the weak, naive exchange student and who the world had molded her to be, and there was very little HG wouldn’t do to keep her well fought for power.

It was almost like a game, the rules in which were made up and constantly changing, but she taught herself to change with them, otherwise change them herself. Every move was planned as a giant chess game in her head.

Firstly, her attire. Consisting of mostly reds and blacks, clinging material and painfully high heels. Wielding her sexuality as a weapon, leaving people reeling and confused and easily manipulateable. If they were too busy fantasizing about her, wanting her, they weren’t paying enough attention to her carefully twisted words.

Secondly, showing up late forced everyone to wait for you.

So she strut through the double doors, throwing them both open, tight jeans and high heeled boots, a white button up with one too many buttons left undone and a black waist coat. Clair walking in behind her, holsters and weapons clearly visible to hike up the intimidation factor.

“Sorry,” she smiled at the men gathered in a circle a few paces from the performers’ stage, quickly sizing them up based on their initial reactions to her. “I was running late.”

“Ah, Wells, my old friend,” James’ smile was painfully forced as he gathered her in to a too tight hug, “It’s good to see you in your element.” He said between his teeth, clearly shoeing his displeasure, but Helena knew him well enough to know he was relieved she had decided to show up.

“HG Wells is a woman?” The grey haired man in an expensive, but tacky suit, smiled condescendingly at her as his eyes traced her contours slowly, “Who’d have ever thought it?”

“That’s quite the point, isn’t it?” HG rolled her eyes, holding her hand out for him to shake as an equal.

“And English!” she senator chuckled, as he accepted her hand, “Why am I still surprised?”

“Perhaps because you’re a dunce?” HG offered innocently while her hand squeezed his painfully, weighing the pros and cons of breaking the senator’s arm before the meeting took place.

“Now, now, HG, play nice,” MacPherson scolded with a chuckle and a worried shift in his eyes, “Calm down, have a drink, enjoy the scenery. Relax a bit before we get down to business.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders turning her from their prospects,

“A drink does sound nice,” she agreed, allowing herself to be lead to the far booth, sitting heavily not paying any mind to the dancers moving in her peripheral.

She was used to these sort of meetings, the prostitutes they hired to dance for them were hardly enticing anymore. No her eyes scanned the surrounding area, the serving girls, the bartender, searching for the familiar woman she was both dreading and anticipating seeing. She was far more worried about Myka’s reaction to seeing her there than offending the men waiting to speak to her.

She drummed her fingers on the edge of the table, fingernails tracing the carvings of patrons passed. She knew Myka was going to be shocked to see her, this would blow the secret wide open, and perhaps this wasn’t the best way to come out as a mob boss to the woman she was pretty sure she loved, but part the cowardice part of her heart had whispered that Myka wouldn’t be able to shout and scream at her if they were in a setting that called for professionalism.

Her foot began tapping when she saw Clair flag someone down for a drink. Her heart raced in time with the haunting melody twisting in the air. But, the gin and tonic arrived by a girl whom she did not recognize, and HG found herself almost disappointed. The blonde was attractive enough, but she wasn’t who she had been waiting for.

She accepted the drink, smiling at the wink the bottle blonde offered as she leant back in her seat, finally feeling the stress knots she had put in her shoulders waiting for this day all week. Perhaps Myka ended up backing out of their offer, deciding the risk of getting involved with the mob was too great. Maybe HG’s dirty little secret was safe for one more night. She let out her first easy breath of the evening and took a sip of her drink, relaxing as she let her gaze wander over the dancers at last, seeking a distraction from the night that had suddenly lost all its luster.

She let her eyes travel slowly over the bare, toned legs, emphasized by the ridiculously high heeled shoes, as one hooked around the pole and caused the body it belonged to to spin around slowly, giving HG a good look at the dancer’s ass and her bare back. HG was sorely sorry she missed this particular strip tease as the dance ran her hands through her long dark hair as she lowered herself down the pole. She seductively looked over her shoulder and HG’s mouth went dry.

Those hauntingly beautiful green eyes were terribly familiar, even beneath the dark make up applied with a careful hand. Months spent gazing into them, memorizing each golden fleck and odd spiral, Helena would recognize those eyes anywhere.

HG found herself staring now, turned sideways in her seat as she watched, trapped as Myka continued her dance with her eyes locked on HG’s. HG gulped, unable to keep her eyes from hungrily devouring all of the bare skin offered for her, she couldn’t even feel ashamed about it, there was no room for any emotion besides lust in the thickening air of the club.

Well, lust and a dash of anger. HG was furious that MacPherson and Sykes had dared hire Myka for the entertainment of their friends after she had explicitly put her off limits, furious that Myka had lied to her about it. But more than any of that, HG was incredibly turned on.

Sykes glanced over from his companions, noticing even in the haze and dim lighting how intently HG was watching this particular dancer, how she unconsciously licked her lips as she watched the front woman sway seductively back and forth. Walter was suddenly glad they took this chance, roping in that bar tender she was so fond of. He and MacPherson needed their other partner in a good mood if this deal was going to go through, and what better way to do that than get her eye candy just where she wanted her. He nudged his personal security, Marcus bent so Walter could whisper into his ear.

The guard went to the stage and pulled the dancer closest to him to the side, relaying the order that had been given. The dancer, who went by the name Candy, carefully danced over to Myka, invading her personal space until they were dancing against one another so that no one could hear the conversation happening.

Myka glanced up at HG once more, a sly smirk appearing on her mouth as she released her pole, confidently sashaying forward, putting her hand out where Clair could help her gracefully down the steps as Candy took over dancing in Myka’s spot.

Helena quickly downed what was left in her glass as Myka approached, eyebrow raised in a challenging manner, and, never one to back down from a challenge, HG accepted, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet, her coming within inches of Myka’s.

“A private dance has been requested?” her husky voice nearly had HG’s knees giving out as she nodded dumbly.

Myka lead her away from the other dancers and men, to a darkened corner of the room and a red leather chair before turning them quickly, shoving HG’s shoulders so she collapsed gratefully in to the cushions, eyes still glued to Myka as she began to sway to muted music neither could hear any longer over the pounding of blood in their veins.

Myka continued to dance in front of her, finding the confidence in the woman she had come to know as Emily’s awe struck face and ever darkening eyes. She ran her hands over her body as she slowly stepped closer to her legs.

Hands on either side of the chairs arms, pushing her boobs up as she leaned forward, dragging her lips over the other woman’s jaw until she could whisper in her ear, “You lied to me.”

“You lied to me, too,” HG shook her head, scrambling for a better defense, for some way to pull Myka back towards her even as she put some distance between them once more, “You said you would be serving drinks not…” she trailed off, unable to think clearly, not with that woman dancing as she was, so tantalizingly close.

Myka smirked, stepping closer once more, then putting a knee on either side of her lap, “You suppose that makes us even then?” she ran her hands through her hair, arching her body to show off every curve, every muscle, every damn inch of delicious looking skin.

Unable to resist any further, Helena allowed her fingers to trace her torso, counting ribs, following the lines created by her muscles and hips to her lower back, finger nails biting slightly, causing Myka to emit a gasp that tapered off into a moan.

Before she could pull her closer, HG found her hands encircled by startlingly strong hands, then pinned behind her head on the back of the chair, “Ah, ah, ah,” she shook her head as her hips continued to circle over her, “No touching, Ms. Wells.”

“Terribly sorry,” Helena was struggling to speak now, her voice coming as a breathy groan, “About this whole mess… I should have told you. I was trying to keep you out of it…”

“Shhh,” Myka released on of her hands to trace a finger over HG’s lips slowly, “Stop talking, Emily.”

“Helena.” HG corrected, wanting to hear what her real name sounded like in that voice, wanting to be sure it was her real name Myka called out when she was finally granted use of her hands.

Myka leant forward, her breath washing over HG’s neck, causing her to shiver with pleasure and anticipation as she whispered lowly in her ear once more, “Helena,” she let the name roll over her tongue and lips, part of her aware enough to enjoy it much better than the feel of ‘Emily’, “If you wanted to keep me all for yourself, all you had to do was ask.” She let her teeth graze over her earlobe.

There was a small growl at the back of Helena’s throat as her hips canted upwards, seeking friction, needing release from this torture.

Myka denied her, pulling back slightly, staring down into eyes that had become impossibly darker with lust, and she knew she was in trouble. Emily Lake- Helena Wells, whoever the fuck she was, she was the enemy. She was one of the leaders of the Brotherhood. She was a thief and a murderer, among other things.

But she was beautiful, and oh so tempting underneath Myka as she was.

Besides, she argued with herself as if her mind wasn’t already made, she _knew_ Emily. And Emily was a good person. All of that couldn’t have been fake, so perhaps they didn’t understand Helena Wells as much as the Warehouse claimed to.

In the end, it wasn’t so difficult for her to justify what she wanted to do.

Her hand caressed Helena’s face, her thumb resting for a moment on her lower lip before her hand locked behind her head, closing the distance between them at long last. Helena sighed at the first contact, moving to deepen the kiss instantly. But Myka captured her lip between her teeth and pulled back.

“God, you have no idea how much I have wanted to do that since the moment I laid eyes on you.” She sighed.

And Helena could keep her hands to herself no longer, grabbing Myka’s hips and yanking her forward until she could feel the warmth of her silk and lace covered center pressed up against her torso, both women moaning at the contact before their mouths crashed together once more.

It was a need filled kiss, hot and wet and never seeming to be enough for either woman as hands wandered, through hair, over bared skin, under a once pressed white shirt. Helena’s nails scraped down Myka’s thighs, causing her to pull back with a moan. HG took the opportunity to leave a trail of open mouth kisses down her neck, noticing that when her teeth scraped the skin, Myka’s breathing hitched. She bit down experimentally where her neck and shoulder met, and the sound it created… Helena would do whatever it took to be able to hear that sound over and over again.

“Do I have to dump cold water on you?” a voice interrupted their heated moment, as it always seemed to, and Helena growled in frustration, the sound only serving to excite Myka more, “Because at this point I don’t think that would even help. But so help me Myka, stop riding my boss before Sykes or MacPherson come over to see what’s keeping her.”

Clair’s words slowly sank in, both women remembering where they were at the same time, and just who it was sitting only a dozen or so yards away. Myka slowly extracted herself from Helena’s lap, unable to resist one more kiss on her swollen lips.

Helena wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull her back, to pick up where they left off before her security, with impeccable timing it seemed, interrupted. But she knew she couldn’t there was work to be done. And the things she wanted to do with Myka… that was going to take more than a couple minutes in an arm chair in the back of a skeevy club.

She stood, making a decision, “Stay with us.”

“What?” Clair and Myka spoke at the same time, giving her twin looks of disbelief.

“They want me to sit in on their meeting, they’ll have to put up with me bringing a guest.” She shrugged, “Clair, be a doll and fetch Myka some clothes would you?”

“Hel, I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” She shook her head, her heart pounding this was the first request she had questioned, and she knew her boss wasn’t about to take that lightly.

HG leveled a glare at her friend, “I didn’t ask your opinion Clair, I asked you to do your job and fetch Ms. Bering some clothing.”

Clair didn’t dare try to speak sense to her boss again, merely nodding before turning for the back stage entrance with a heavier step than normal.

“Are you sure about this?” Myka spoke up, shifting in uncertainty from one foot to the other, “I don’t want to cause trouble…”

“Nonsense.” HG smiled, “It’ll be fine,” she stepped forward, taking Myka’s hands in hers, “I trust you.”

Myka’s heart sank, _you really shouldn’t…_

“And I want you to trust me. That now that you know… well, all that lying and hiding and awful American accent… that’s all over now.” She smiled, letting her thumbs trace patterns over the backs of Myka’s hands.

_Oh, Helena…_

Now that the heat of the moment was passing, Myka could feel the reality of her situation trying to creep back in. The realization of what this all meant. Of what she had to do.

Her job was to bring the brotherhood down. Therefore, she should be all for sitting in on a secret meeting. She should be thrilled to finally solve the mystery of Wells.

Why then did it turn her stomach to rot when she smiled and nodded her agreement?


	23. Undercover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF DEATH AFTER THE LINE BREAK

Myka could feel her heart beating in her ears, the sound of rushing blood nearly drowning out the conversation happening around her. She felt like an animal of prey, trapped in the lions’ den, though they hadn’t quite noticed her yet.  She never felt so utterly alone before, she couldn’t even discreetly turn her AI back on. ****

If something went wrong, it would all fall on her.

When they first had rejoined the men, her presence was protested. This was a private meeting, they couldn’t have just any one sitting in and listening. And Myka had a brief moment of relief, she was already in over her head after all. But one sharp look from Emily- er-  _Helena_  had them biting their tongues.

Myka struggled to pay attention, to keep her eyes on the men, the criminals surrounding her. She managed to put on a good mask of cool indifference, looking nearly bored as she played with Helena’s fingers on the table top. On the inside, however, she was having a miniature freak out over what she was hearing.

“You have our full support in running your campaigns, gentlemen,” the governor smiled at Sykes and MacPherson.

“And you shall have ours in your next election, Philip,” MacPherson assured him.

“With taking over other cities, bringing them into our little fold,” Sykes smile was sharp, reminding Myka of a shark, “We need to consider expanding our outer territories, as well as fortifying our border towns.”

“And how do you expect that to happen?” the Senator, leaned back in his seat, sipping from the amber liquid in his glass.

“First off, we need you two to play nice with those states.” Sykes shrugged.

The Governor made a face, “Even the republicans? I may support your cause and I enjoy the… commodities you’ve allowed us, but I do have some standards, Walter.”

“You listen here,” MacPherson’s voice dripped with poison as he set his glass carefully on the side table, “I don’t care who you have to bribe, fuck or kill. You will help us create a unified territory. Or I’ll find someone who will.”

There was a tense moment of silence that screamed around them, and Myka found herself tensing, waiting for something to break around them. But the Governor just cracked a smile and held his drink up in toast to his hosts, “Bribe, fuck, kill.”

“What else?” the Senator spoke up again, “You said first off. What else do we need to do?”

“It’s not you two,” Sykes leveled his stare at Helena, “HG, how’s that little army of yours coming along?”

 _Army?_  That caught Myka’s attention.

“If we pull from all my security companies and subsidiary, depending on where you wanted to start, we could take Colorado or Idaho in one, two months tops.” She shrugged.

That’s what Wells did, Myka realized. They could never pinpoint his- rather  _her-_ role in the Brotherhood. They weren’t Sykes and MacPherson’s men, they were Well’s. They had put Pete in Well’s operation without even realizing it, until he had been reassigned to MacPherson’s daughter.

This was making everything for their operation so much more complicated.

A shrill sound interrupted the meeting, making Myka flinch slightly. MacPherson’s phone was at his ear by the time Myka had recovered herself.

“What? Who is he?” he growled, “No, no,” his eyes flashed up to Helena, “I have just the person to figure it out. Thank you for the call, I won’t forget it.” He ended the call, “I’m sorry gentlemen, ladies, this meeting is going to have to be cut short. Something’s come up.”

There were a few humorous words exchanged, none of which Myka could remember. She could only focus on the hand holding hers tightly as they both stood, prepared to leave. Myka wasn’t sure she was ready to be alone with Helena after learning so much, could she keep the ruse up? Could she stave off the panic threatening to rise up? Was she completely screwed because of her feelings?

Most definitely.

“Wells,” a voice called out sharply, stopping them in their tracks, “ _Wir müssen unter vier Augen redden_.” MacPherson spoke sternly, his voice carrying an authoritative note that could not be ignored.

“I really should be seeing Ms. Bering off, James. Another time perhaps.” She tried to turn once more.

“Helena.” The name sounded like a curse, and Myka felt her fingers reach instinctively for her weapon, “Stay. I insist.” His glare was icy, “I’m sure Nathanael would be more than happy to help our dear Myka home now.” MacPherson nodded for his body guard, and he stepped forward menacingly.

Helena must’ve felt Myka flinch before she stepped subtly in between her partner and the woman who’s hand she now held in a vice grip, “Clair, see her home safe.”

Clair nodded, but Myka’s mouth opened in protest almost immediately. She was silenced with a brief, but searing kiss from HG, “I’ll call you when I can. Just… be safe for now, alright? I need you safe.” It was said for Myka’s ears only, and the agent found herself nodding, allowing herself to be lead away.

Against her better judgement, Myka let Clair drive her home in stressed filled silence, staring out the window and wondering just what was going to happen now, and what the fuck she would do about it.

**_XXXXX_ **

 

Todd swallowed the bile that threatened to rise as he stood under the flickering lamp. The world was bathed in flashes of blue and red, the sound of a dozen boots, murmured voices and distant sirens. The humid air making his skin feel sticky and slick. But none of these things compared to the stench of death that hung heavily in the air around them, he kept his nose pointed at his small yellow note pad, writing down everything his partner was saying without focusing on what her words meant.

“Nolan, are you listening to me?” Abigail snapped, glaring up at him from where she crouched beside the body.

“Ye-yeah,” he pushed his glasses back up his nose, his sweat continually making them slip to the edge.

“Alright then, the doctor will be here shortly, so let’s finish up the prelim. Help me out here, Todd, what do you notice?” she gestured to the corpse.

“Please don’t make me look at it again,” Todd begged under his breath, glancing worriedly at the cops investigating the scene, “If I throw up in front of these guys one more time, our lab will be a joke.”

Abigale sighed, she had quickly learned since starting this job that her partner and friend had a very weak stomach when it came to the dark and twisted impulses of the human mind, “Then tell me what you notice about the surroundings.” She stood back up to her full height, not wanting to wear out her knees before the medical examiner arrived.

“Alright, well, the, um, victim was found in a dumpster,” Todd began, scratching the back of his head, he had always done so much better with analyzing photographs and suspects, developing victimology and profiling. But working in the field always frazzled him, took away the last barrier that made it all too real.

“I know you can be more articulate than that, Nolan,” Abigail chided him, “You need to focus and do your job,” she said the last part quieter, trying to give him the kick in the ass he clearly needed.

Todd steeled his nerved, “He’s in an ally in the warehouse district. He was found inside a dumpster by the evening garbage man.”

“He was dumped in a garbage,” Abigail nodded, pacing the scene, “Says a lot about our perp doesn’t it? How they must’ve felt about this man to just toss him in the dumpster with the rest of the trash.”

“Maybe he just didn’t want the body found,” Todd argued, “Figured the trucks would take it to be incinerated along-side the scrap.”

“Normally I would agree with you,” she shrugged, “But everything else about this crime…” she shook her head, “As long as you and I have been doing this, I thought we had seen it all. Mob hits, crimes of passion, of opportunity… this, though, this is a message.”

“A message?” Todd furrowed his brow, “A message for whom?”

“I guess we’ll find out.” Abigail looked up as the black coroners van pulled onto the scene, watching as the blonde doctor hopped out of the divers seat, pulling her hair into a high pony tail before grabbing her equipment.

“Dr. Caulder.” Abigail nodded her greeting.

“CSU Cho,” Vanessa smiled grimly, “CSU Nolan. What do we have here?”

“Male, Caucasian, early thirties, single GSW to the back of the head.” Abigail ran down the facts like she was reading off a script, “Found in the dumpster, but there’s no sign that the crime took place here.”

“Let’s see,” the medical examiner crouched beside the body, pulling her gloves on, “Can I move the body?” she asked.

“First responders already contaminated the scene,” Abigale rolled her eyes, “They took him out of the bin. But we’ve taken all the photographs that we need, so go ahead.”

Vanessa took out a small, old fashioned digital tape recorder, “This is chief medical examiner Vanessa Caulder, called to respond to a possible code 15 in the lower warehouse district, on scene. Victim is male, Caucasian, between thirty and forty, DOA. No identification. Victim was found naked, nylon ropes binding his wrists and feet together, though there seems to be no bruising or chafing, leading me to believe the John Doe was bound postmortem. He has several lacerations to the face, chest and arms, bruising about the ribs and a split lip as well as discoloration around the eyes and nose. He is missing three fingers, his index and middle on the right hand and the ring finger on the left. Clotting indicates they were removed perimortem. There are burn marks along the collar bone as well as the bottom of the feet. His penis was also removed shortly before the time of death, which I would place somewhere in the last twelve hours. In conclusion, my initial findings indicate cause of death to be the result of a single gunshot wound to the back of the head. I’ll have to do a full autopsy and work up in my lab, but torture is a likely result of these wounds.”

Vanessa sighed and rose to her feet, “Alright, pack it up, let’s get it back to the lab, see if we can get a workable ID off the fingers he has left.”

_**XXXX** _

 

Abigail stood in on the autopsy while Todd ran interference with the detectives and lab techs, pushing to get a rush on the ID. He never liked the cold, too sterile room that smelled of antiseptic and death.

“He was definitely tortured,” Dr. Caulder sighed after they closed him back up, “And I found bruising on his upper arms and legs that suggest he was bound to a chair of some sort.”

“Why?” Abigail shook her head.

“Well, parts of this I’ve seen before, believe it or not, working in New York.” Vanessa crossed her arms, “Removing the fingers, the electrical burns, the blunt force trama… this man had information that someone else wanted, and he did everything in his power not to give it up. The slashes to the face, the mutilation to his genitals, that was after they got the information from him, I would venture to guess. That was the punishment for whatever it was they learned.”

“See? That’s where it’s weird for me,” Abigail shook her head, “Slashes to the face, that’s rage, that’s personal. But the gunshot wound to the back of the head? That says it was a hit, calculated, distant. How can a crime be personal and distant?”

“I think I can answer that,” Vanessa’s head tilted as she circled the body on the slab, “These slashes focused on his chest, they vary in depth, indicating someone who couldn’t control their emotions when carving their message.”

“Message?” The investigator squinted her eyes at the body, demanding it tell her all it’s secrets.

“It’s crude, but it’s there,” with a gloved hand, the examiner traced the lines, turning them into letters, “T…R…A…I…”

“Traitor.” Abigail finished, “So it was personal. But the perp fell back on old habits to distance himself. So the question is, who is our John Doe, and who did he betray.”

“I think I can answer that!” Todd shouted as he tripped into the room, so worked up, the dead body didn’t even phase him, “I got a hit on the finger prints. Buck Mendel. He’s been picked up a few times for crimes tied to the mobs.”

“The Brotherhood,” the Warehouse Agents exchanged looks, this wouldn’t be the first body they had suspected the Brotherhood of, but this might be the first one they could make stick.”

“No, with the O’Riley’s,” Todd shook his head, “The Irish mob in town. Looks like he was a hitter for the boss.”

“They’re dying off like flies around here,” Abigail frowned, “What could Mr. Mendel done that warranted his own gang turning on him?”

“Stop what you’re doing!” the doors banged open once more, in strode a parade of suits and two struggling lab techs the Agents recognized well. Two men held Leena and Josh while another two trained weapons on the room, and another man still, this one not in a suit, but a rumpled looking sweater vest, wielding a small handheld device.

Todd and Abigail drew their weapons in a flash, aiming it at the intruders, “Put down your weapons!” Abigail barked, “And let the Techs go.”

No one moved, but the kid with the handheld typed away madly, “We’re clear.”

“That isn’t necessary Agent Cho.” One of the men grumbled between teeth as he closed and bared the door behind them, “You and Agent Nolan can lower your weapons.” Leena and Josh were released, and they moved to stand on the other side of the table with their team.

“Why should we? Who are you?” Todd demanded, his aim unwavering.

“They are your superior officers, Agents.” Dr. Caulder sneered, recognizing some of the faces, “Hugo, I see Warehouse 11 is treating you well.”

They each held up Warehouse Agent badges, letting the metal reflect the light, “Now, can you follow orders, agents? Lower your goddamn weapons.” The same man, Hugo, Vanessa had called him, barked angrily.

“Do you mind telling us what’s going on here?” Todd lowered his gun, but didn’t holster it yet.

“You ran prints that flagged our attention,” Hugo explained warily, “Buck Mendel.”

“Our dead mobster?” Todd questioned, “Why were you keeping an eye on Mendel?”

 

“Because he isn’t just some dead mobster, he was an undercover Warehouse Agent.” 


	24. Discovered

Myka watched the city pass in a blur, back lit sky scrapers in the dreary morning sun, men and women stumbling out of clubs and bars, smog from trucks and early morning commuters already choking the air.

Myka used to love mornings, greeted them warmly with a cup of coffee on her apartment’s balcony, listening to the world suspended in that funny stage between dreaming and waking. It was the only time everything became still for her. Peace in an ever degrading world.

Now she hated them. She hated the light revealing the filth she had covered herself in. the vile feel of people going home angry and disappointed. Mornings in Univille made her feel sick.

She had hoped after the night she’d had, she’d be able to avoid the day entirely. She just wanted to crawl under her covers and forget she lived in a world built on lies that she had helped construct.

No such luck.

Clair had not taken Myka straight home- on Helena’s orders, she learned.

“HG is just paranoid,” Clair shrugged as she drove aimlessly through the city, “You’ll get used to it.”

Myka didn’t want to get used to it. When the shock had passed, the threat to her life gone, what was left in its wake was anger. Myka was fucking pissed.

One thing. _One. Thing._ Was that too much to ask? To have one damned thing in her life that was still good? That was simple? That was beautiful?

She had wanted, hoped terribly that Emily was her thing. The beautiful, smart, caring, funny, if a bit eccentric bar tender turned friend. She wanted so badly to keep her, kept awake at night considering what she should do.

But fate had deigned that Myka be deprived of that. It was determined to leave nothing untainted by blackness.

So much of their time together finally made the sense it hadn’t before. Why Emily’s place was so well fortified. Why her bar had to be the highest security and lowest incident rating. Why she got away with the snarky attitude that had always worried Myka. Why she tensed when someone called MacPherson her boss. Why she had been so protective over Wells.

Because Emily Lake wasn’t all she seemed. She was merely a shell, a watered down version of the soul thrumming under her skin. She wasn’t the woman form Wisconsin trying to keep her head down as she out ran her past.

She was Helena Wells. One of the most, if not _the_ most powerful person this side of the United States. So feared and revered, less than nothing was known about her. Not even her motive or role in anything.

“I’m such an idiot.” Myka’s voice fogged the passenger side window before allowing her forehead to thud against it none too gently, her eyes slipping shut.

“Clair, just take me home,” she grumbled around midnight, “I feel disgusting. I need to shower, change, and sleep for about a thousand years…”

“No can do, Myka.” Clair shook her head, eyes darting briefly to the rearview mirror.

“Why the hell not?” her anger was sparked once more.

“Look, Myka, she might me your girlfriend, but she is my boss,” Clair huffed, “And friend or not, HG Wells is a terrifying boss to have-,”

“Clair,” her voice had a warning edge to it, calm as she fixed her gaze on her new babysitter, “I am only going to say this once, so please listen carefully. I don’t give a _fuck_ who she thinks she is. Helena can’t just have me carted around all night. I am wearing leather and heels and not much else. I just had to degrade myself by dancing for a bunch of gross, sweaty, middle aged men- _which is nowhere near even close to my job description_. I am covered in sweat, gin and body glitter, so you will take me somewhere I can shower and change or so help me God, Clair-,”

“Alright!” Clair cut her off, “Jesus Christ, boss’ got herself an equally terrifying girlfriend…” she mumbled, “Look, how about I take you back to the loft? You can shower and change there, and that way I don’t have to go against orders.

“Fine.” Myka snapped, deflating slightly after her outburst.

That was how she ended up standing for an hour in what had to be the best shower she’d ever had. Temperature controlled water, pulsing streams that felt like a massage on her tired muscles. The soap and shampoo smelled like Helena, and that had it’s own calming effect on her. So by the time she was done rinsing the night off and found herself standing in the kitchen wearing clothes borrowed from Helena’s drawers, she felt slightly guilty about snapping at Clair.

She was just trying to do her job, after all. Keeping Myka safe when the threat on the mobs’ patriarchs- and matriarch- and their loved ones was at an all-time high.

Her awkward, fumbling apology to the other woman was cut short by her loudly growling stomach. Clair smiled before herding her back into the car, driving them to the diner where Wolly was working. Emphasis on was, seeing as when they arrived, he took his apron off and joined them at the booth for three am waffles.

“So, now you know.” Wolly sighed over his Irish coffee, “Thank God, it was getting rather painful to hear that awful American accent of hers all the time.”

“I can’t believe she lied to me,” Myka’s tired mind lost its filter.

“To be fair, she didn’t know you,” Clair pointed out, “We have a lot of enemies, we didn’t even know if we could trust you.”

“And now?” Myka pushed her eggs around the plate, unable to look them in the eye for fear they would see, “Do you trust me now?”

“After everything?” Wolly and Clair exchanged a long look, “Yeah, we do.”

“Then tell me about her.” There was a desperate undercurrent in her tone she hoped they wouldn’t hear, “God, do I even know her at all?” Myka pushed her plate away, burying her head in her hands.

“None of us know her, really,” Clair sighed, “In fact, you probably know her better that we do. But you’ll have to talk to her. There are things only she can tell you.”

Myka didn’t say anything. Truthfully, she’d begun to drift off a bit, her exhaustion over coming her.

“Myka,” Clair nudged her a while later, “Come on, the sun’s coming up.”

“Mfhm,” she groaned, leaning heavily on Wolla as they exited the diner.

Then she was watching the waking city, unsure of what to believe, of what to do, of what to feel.

“You live here with your friends?”

It was Clair’s question that let Myka know they had arrived at the bed and breakfast.

“Hm? Yeah.” Myka fumbled with her seat belt, “I mean, I was friends with a few of them before. Some just since I moved here.”

“What do they do? I mean, I know Becks runs a club, Pete was one of HG’s security guys, Jinks is a cop… what is it you said Claudia does?”

“Computer stuff,” Myka shrugged, “I’m not really sure. I don’t know how legal some of the stuff she does is, so I never asked.

“You’re friends, though. You and her.” Clair stared glassy eyed at the building, “You look out for one another?”

“Yeah,” Myka nodded, “We all take care of each other. None of us had much of a family before. So we became each other’s family.” Myka explained around a yawn/

“Alright, sleepy head, go on.” She smiled at her, “Don’t be surprised if HG finds you later.”

Myka didn’t know if that thought thrilled or terrified her, “Goodnight, Clair.”

“Good morning, Myka.” Her voice sounded so sad, it worried Myka, letting her know that yet another person had wormed their way into her heart.

“MARLE,” Myka yawned once more as she slowly made her way up the path, “Reboot.” She wanted to ask her to look into Clair, to figure out how she got mixed up with the Brotherhood, before she passed out and forgot.

She never got the chance.

The sound of quickly approaching footsteps should have been a warning, but Myka’s distraction, her exhaustion, slowed her mental processes until it was too late to react.

There was a sharp pain in her neck.

There was darkness.

**_XXXXX_ **

Myka felt as though she were sinking slowly, deeper and deeper into water. She briefly considered panicking, that’s what normal people did in this situation, wasn’t it? But something told her that panicking would be pointless.

Voices drifted down to her, muffled and far above the surface. Unintelligible, mumbled at first, but steadily getting louder, clearer. It was her name, she realized, they were calling out to her.

Her body jerked, abruptly changing direction as she rocketed towards the surface, quickly… too quickly. The salt water filling her nose, burning her sinuses.

She was suddenly very much awake, surging forwards and coughing trying to get away from the burning.

“Careful,” a voice warned, making the sulfate disappear, “The compound we used can cause-,” she began, but was cut off when Myka began gagging, vomiting her breakfast into a metal bin shoved under her chin.

Myka’s eyes, watery and bloodshot, glared up at the people standing around her. This feeling was all too familiar, her body skipping straight over panic to fury this time around.

“What the ever living _fuck_ is wrong with you people?” she demanded, spitting into the bin before shoving it away from her.

“Anger and irritability as well as nausea and headaches are common side effects of the drug we used to transport you,” Dr. Caulder explained, handing Myka a bottle of mouthwash before she checked her pupils and pulse.

“I think the anger stems more from being _drugged and kidnapped_.” Claudia pointed out from the metal chair beside Myka’s, looking quite sick herself.

Myka noticed the other field agents from her team in various stages of wakefulness. Abigail, Leena, Todd and Josh sitting with their backs against the couch with enraged looks on their face. They were in Warehouse 13’s office, she realized, the board with all their recon information pushed to the side to make room for their superiors to pace back and forth.

“It wasn’t like that,” Arthur rolled his eyes, “Don’t make it sound so bad.”

“Oh, so was this the good kind of drugging?” She challenged, “Like here, have some flowers, and a puppy, and some Grade A pharmaceutical narcotics!”

“Please, agents,” Regent Lattimer spoke sternly, “We only meant to get you here as quickly as possible without facing a barrage of questions we couldn’t yet answer.”

“We tried to stop them,” Leena offered, sounding angrier than anyone had heard before, “They wouldn’t listen.”

“I’d like to take this time to remind you that you signed a contract-,” Mrs. Fredric began.

“Like hell I agreed to being drugged and taken in by my own company!” Jack stumbled to his feet.

“We did,” Myka ran her hands through her disheveled hair, tangled and curly from the shower, “ _Agents may at any time be subject to random inquiry in which their chief of medical may induce sleep to transfer to a secure facility_.”

“That’s such bullshit.” Pete was looking everywhere but at his mother.

“Enough!” Jane snapped, “We have bigger issues than this that we need to deal with. We’ve been compromised.”

The field agents quickly shut their mouths, shooting sideways glances at each other. Each wondering who it was, each fearing it was them, wondering where they had slipped up. Myka thought she knew.

“We don’t know that.” Arthur argued.

“Will someone tell us what the hell is going on?” Rebecca demanded.

“A Warehouse agent is dead.” Jane told them, “Murdered.”

“What? Who? When?” they were all shouting now.

“Silence!” Jane’s voice carried easily over them, setting them back down before they got too out of hand, “He was a Warehouse 11 agent, undercover in the Irish mob. We think he was found out, and that’s why he was killed.”

“Why weren’t we told about another team investigating on our turf?” Jinks crossed his arms.

“We didn’t know. They weren’t supposed to be here.” Jane explained, “They found our team, and got curious as to why we were here, what we were doing.”

“You mean Hugo didn’t want to be left out when handing out honors when we bring this corporation down.” Arthur snapped.

“Artie, please,” Vanessa tired.

“How the hell did they find us? I thought we were supposed to be top secret?” Pete began pacing now.

“Fargo.” Arthur grumbled.

“Fargo?” Claudia’s voice was sharp, “You mean _the_ Fargo?”

“What the hell is a fargo?” Pete and Jack spoke at the same time.

“Not a what, a who.” Arthur explained, “He’s Warehouse 11’s Claudia.”

“Whoa, do not compare me to him!” Claudia yelled, “I swear to God I am going to string that little worm up…”

“I’m sensing a story here?” Rebecca looked at the younger redhead, who suddenly clammed up.

“What the hell were they thinking?” Myka shook her head.

“The got nosey, they got bored, they got suspicious, who the hell knows. The point is, they got their inside man killed, and they’ve exposed us.”

“You don’t know that!” Arthur pushed again, “As far as we know, they don’t know about our team. Maybe they think Mendel was the only one.”

“That’s something we can’t risk.” Jane put her foot down, “It’s time to abandon recon and close in now, bring in reinforcements-,”

“No!” Myka shouted, surging forward slightly as panic filled her, her outburst was echoed around her by her team. Months of work, they all felt so close. They didn’t want all they had done to have been for nothing. Some of them, unwilling to admit it, had formed attachments they didn’t want to endanger with a full out war.

“Not yet!” Arthur practically begged, “We don’t know if they suspect us. Our assignment can be salvaged! What we _should_ do is close ranks, catch the murderer, see what they know.”

The other agents looked hopefully at their regent, liking this idea much better. She seemed to consider it. The months of work, millions of dollars, they couldn’t just throw that away. That would reflect badly on all of them, forget about only blaming Warehouse 11.

“Two weeks,” Jane finally said, “I’ll give you two weeks to find this killer and close up your investigations up, get what information you can. Because in two weeks, if Warehouse 11’s regent doesn’t hear back from their team, they are going to come investigate regardless and the choice will be out of my hands.”

“Where are they? The Warehosue 11 agents?” Steve asked suddenly.

“We have them in holdings here. Much like you’re quarters back in Warehouse 1.” Jane shrugged.

“Alright then, what do we know?” Pete clapped his hands.

“The Irish and the Brotherhood seem to have mended fences,” Abigail sighed, “This murder, our witnesses, seem to say it was both of them.”

“That was their plan all along I think,” Myka mumbled, staring off into space, “To assimilate the smaller gangs. I mean, why kill off perfectly good fighters, people they could use. Why kill them when you can beat them into submission?”

Everyone looked worriedly at the agent exuding darkness, no one sure what to say.

“Let me see the crime scene photos,” she held out her hand, “The reports.”

“I don’t know,” Todd fidgeted, “They’re pretty gruesome.”

“Are you fucking with me?” Myka snapped, “I was a homicide detective before all of this, or have you forgotten I’m actually not a bartender? For Christ’s sake, Nolan, give me the file.”

Everyone was stunned into silence as the crime scene tech handed off the reports, and they watched carefully Myka’s face, devoid of emotion as she flipped through each page as if it were a newspaper.

“We found the original crime scene,” Abigail explained as she read, “It was in one of the warehouses. A bloody massacre inside. Hard to believe it was only one man who died” she shook her head.

Myka brought the close ups of foot prints to her face, “Looks like two killers. One man and one woman.”

“Witness statements agree, they saw two assailants.” Todd nodded, trying not to stutter, “One who was there the entire time, a male, one who arrived much later, female. She arrived on a motorcycle thirty minutes prior to the shot alert, an hour before the report of a dead body was made to the police station.”

Myka’s heart stopped, feeling like she was going to be sick all over again, “What was the time of death?”

“My best guess? Ten pm. Garbage man found him at eleven. We were there until a little after midnight. Warehouse 11 agents interrupted our analyzation around two am. And here we are.” Vanessa waved around the room.

Her mind was having trouble with the math, but Myka knew. There would be time to drive on a motorcycle, in and out of traffic, from the club to the warehouse district.

“Suspects,” Rebecca pushed, “Who do we know in the brotherhood? What female hitters are we aware of?”

“How do you know it’s a brotherhood hitter?” Myka’s voice was higher than she intended.

“Well, we know both sides were involved, and the man was one of O’Riley’s man, since that’s where Mendel was placed.” Todd explained, “SO we figure the woman has to be Brotherhood.”

“Okay, female assassin who drives a motorcycle,” Jack huffed, “Shouldn’t be that difficult.”

Myka walked out of the office, eyes unseeing, blood rushing in her ears, because she knew someone who fit that description. Her name was playing in a loop in her head, _Helena, Helena, Helena…_

She needed to leave, she needed to get out of here, she needed to breath she needed to think… she started running, and they let her go. Had no choice when her team closed off her escape route.

“She’s had a long week.” Pete crossed his arms over his chest.

“Now is not the time for running off on our own!” Jane pushed at her son, but he didn’t budge.

“We can monitor her from anywhere, we’ll know if something goes wrong.” Clair insisted.

“She probably went home.” Rebecca shrugged.

“It’s where we’re all going.” Jack grumbled through teeth.

“But-,” Arthur huffed.

“We’ll find the guy.” Steve cut him off, “We’ll look out for each other. It’s what we do.”

They all turned and left, followed by the lab techs and crime scene analysts. And their superior officers watched on.

“Well,” Irene spoke softly, “You wanted a team able to function autonomously.”

“I didn’t foresee this level of commitment to the assignment.” Jane crossed her arms, “Bring me Fargo. We’re going to take a look at what our agents are doing, have done.”

“What are you thinking, Jane?” Arthur looked at her.

“I want to make sure our agents are above reproach when this all comes crumbling down,”

“When? Don’t you mean if?”

“I think that time has passed, Colonel.”


	25. Compromised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, everyone needs to thank the other two members of Loumauve's OT3 for this chapter finally being finished- Tantedrago and the Flirty Anon, because... well it wasn't happening.  
> And I strongly encourage everyone who reads this chapter to go to “whiskeyadams(dot)tumblr(dot)com(forwardslash)tagged(forwardslash)whiskey attempts the smut thing(forwardslash)chrono” before you write your much appreciated comments.

She didn’t remember the drive there, hadn’t bothered to return to the B&B to change or even put on shoes. She probably looked like a frantic mess to anyone who saw her between the Warehouse and her final destination. But Myka needed it to stop. The buzz under her skin, the itch that kept moving, the thundering heart beat in her ear. She needed it to stop. And the only one who could make it stop was Helena.

The apartment complex was quiet when she pulled the commandeered SUV into the underground parking, the elevator empty. She rest her head on the reflective surface after giving her hand print to the scanner, trying to cool her face.

Everything was swirling around in her head, it was unbearable. She wanted peace. She wanted normalcy. She wanted assurance that Emily wasn’t completely a lie, mearly another name for the same woman. She wanted to know that Helena wasn’t capable of creating the scene she found in those photos.

She lifted her hand to knock on the door of the apartment, but the wood disappeared before she had a chance, revealing a shocked looking Helena, changed from her earlier attire.

 _Because it was uncomfortable or because it was soiled by the Warehouse Agent’s blood?_ Myka’s mind demanded.

“Myka,” Helena breathed, hand clutching at her chest, stepping back as Myka entered the apartment, “I’ve just sent Clair and Wolly out to fetch you- is that my shirt?”

The Brit was pulled up short. Part of her noticed the crazed look in the younger woman’s eye, the way she paced back and forth, kept her arms wrapped tightly around her torso, but the rest of her was greatly preoccupied with the way Myka looked wearing her clothes- that white button down in particular  conjuring up all sorts of images in Helena’s mind.

“Huh?” Myka gave her a look before shaking her head, “Yeah- there’s been a murder.”

“Excuse me?” that got HG’s attention, “Who?”

“Please tell me it wasn’t you.” Myka begged, “I couldn’t stand it-,”

“Myka, darling, slow down,” she placed a hand on either shoulder, “And tell me what is going on.”

Myka scrambled for a lie that was mostly truth, “An undercover cop was killed last night, I just heard. Say you weren’t involved, tell me you didn’t do those things to him.”

“Myka, love, one of the good things about my position is I don’t have to get my hands dirty like that.” HG resisted the urge to chuckle, seeing how much this was effecting her.

“So it wasn’t you.” Myka finally let her arms fall.

“It wasn’t me.” She assured with a smile.

“Oh thank God,” Myka gasped, not letting Helena respond, lurching forward, crashing their lips together in a fierce kiss.

It lasted only a moment, then reality caught up with the agent.

“Sorry,” Myka blushed, trying to step back, but Helena was having none of that.

That one, hurried kiss was not enough for Helena. Not even close. She silenced Myka’s apologies and explanations with her lips, a hand on either side of her face to keep her from pulling away.

Not that the thought had occurred to Myka. Especially when Helena’s tongue traced her lip, sending her head spinning before she could even think to respond.

Helena had been holding herself back, trying to remind herself to be gentle, to go slowly so as not to frighten the other woman off. But all those plans went out the window as soon as Myka’s hands suddenly gained a mind of their own, tangling themselves in Helena’s hair, trying to get them closer than was physically possible. Myka couldn’t hold back the moan when their tongues finally touched.

Myka’s back was suddenly against the door, Helena’s body crashing into hers as she surged forwards. HG’s mouth at her ear as they both breathed heavily, “Gods, how I _love_ that sound.” She growled before trailing wet kisses down Myka’s neck, making note where it caused her breathing to hitch, her hands to grasp tighter.

Her progress was halted by the collar of Myka’s shirt, she didn’t think before ripping the buttons- it was _her_ shirt after all- and was rewarded with a delicious gasp that had their lips connecting once more. Helena’s hands now explored the flesh exposed to her. Fingertips splayed over her toned stomach, searching outward, counting ribs, tracing hip bones, digging into her lower back.

Heat coursed through Myka’s veins, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she would last

“Wait,” Myka mumbled around their kiss, trying to catch her breath as her knees threatened to give out, “Wait, wait…”

“What? What is it?” Helena asked, chest heaving, aching to close the small distance between their lips once more.

Myka swallowed thickly as she watched Helena’s eyes, nearly black with lust, trace her lips, her neck, her collar bones and lower before meeting her gaze once more. She couldn’t form coherent thoughts, let alone full sentences. So she settled for one word.

“Bed,”

Helena realized she had been supporting most of the other woman’s weight, with the help of the door, she liked the feeling of being pressed right up against her body. But the thought of taking this to the bedroom-

Keeping her hands wrapped around Myka’s waist, bringing their mouths together once more in a feverish kiss, Helena began walking backwards towards her bedroom. They ignored the sound of crashing as they knocked over various things on their journey, too preoccupied with more important things, like Helena’s hands running over Myka’s shoulders, relieving her of the now ruined shirt.

Helena’s knees hit the mattress first, causing her to fall heavily onto the bed. She tried to pull the other woman down with her, but Myka resisted, breaking their connection and pulling back slightly. Helena’s noise of disapproval was cut short when she saw the gleam in Myka’s eyes as she touched the tip of her finger to Helena’s lips.

“Shh,” Myka smiled wickedly, “We need to even the score.”

Helena’ sbottom lip when between her teeth as Myka’s hands ran under the hem of the other woman’s shirt slowly, fingers seeking warm skin that felt like silk, pushing the material up and over her head, watching carefully, enraptured by every new inch of skin revealed to her.

“You are so beautiful,” Myka’s voice was full of wonderment, and Helena reached out for her once more, needing to feel her, needing to close the distance that was driving her mad, only for Myka to stop her with one hand placed just below her collar bone and pushing her backwards, forcing her to lay down.

Myka drug her fingernails over Helena’s ribs, to her hips, running her fingers under the waist band of her pants, popping the button before she slowly pulled the material down her thighs. Helena was pretty sure she had stopped breathing, but she couldn’t care less so long as Myka’s hands were on her.

Myka took a moment to just appreciate the picture before her. Helena on her back, leaning up on her elbows and staring at Myka with her lip between her teeth, left only in her bra and panties, waiting for her.

Now that she had left rational thought and sanity behind, the only problem Myka was having was deciding where to put her mouth first with just too many tempting options.

Needing to close the space between them, Myka moved to straddle HG’s thighs, hands tracing reverently over her abdomen. HG arched into the touch, biting her lips to trap the moan there as heat began to pool in her lower abdomen.

Myka took care, watched her own hands intently, as if memorizing every part of the woman beneath her, afraid this would be the last time. Helena lay there, content for the time being to allow Myka’s careful, slow exploration of her skin. But her need for the other woman was rising, and she wasn’t touching her where she most desperately wanted it.

Helena pushed herself into a sitting position, pulling Myka’s thighs so her legs were wrapped around Helena’s waist before grasping the back of her neck and pulling her in for a long, slow kiss that stole Myka’s breath.

It was Helena’s turn to savor the moment, taking in every vivid detail- Myka’s labored breathing, the muscles in her thighs constricting her sides ever so slightly as her hips rocked forward unconsciously as she adjusted to the new position.

She was so caught up in the sensations her own initiative caused, HG didn’t realize Myka had been working on her bra clasp until it snapped open and the straps fell down her arms. She pulled the garment out of the way without breaking their kiss, only pulling back when Helena gasped as she tested the weight of her breasts in her hands, thumbs brushing over the quickly stiffening peaks.

Helena growled at the smirk on Myka’s face, grabbing the other woman’s hips and abruptly turning them, pinning Myka’s hands over her head, holding her lips just out of reach from her.

“I wasn’t done.” Myka’s husky voice sent a new wave of arousal coursing through HG, and if she had less self-control, less of a need to be in control, she wouldn’t have lasted.

“I’m afraid you’re quite over dressed, darling,” Helena chuckled, and damn if it wasn’t the sexiest thing Myka had heard yet, if she wasn’t wet before, she sure as hell was now.

Helena’s lips attached themselves to Myka’s neck, biting and sucking and generally sending Myka into a frenzy. She adjusted her grip on Myka’s wrists so she held them both in one hand, freeing the other to roam freely. And roam it did, first to Myka’s still bra clad breasts, though she was quick to fix that, thanking heavens for whomever invented front clasp bras.

Helena squeezed Myka’s wrists once, indicating that they stay where she put them so she could use both hands, watching Myka’s reaction as she lowered her lips to one of the rosy buds. The sounds Myka was making were so addicting, but HG wanted to hear just how loud she could make the other woman cry out. She pulled the nipple between her teeth, flicking her tongue lightly over it, causing Myka to writhe beneath her.

Needing to touch her, Myka’s hands threaded through Helena’s hair, trying to keep her where she was for as long as she could.

Helena realized when she shifted lower that Myka still had her jeans on, and that just wouldn’t do. She begrudgingly left Myka’s breasts, making a silent promise to come back to them later, and again and again.

Myka whimpered in protest at the loss of HG’s mouth, but it caught in her throat when she instead trailed her lips and tongue down her quivering abdomen, allowing her nails to scrathch down her ribs until HG could grip the waist band of the jeans.

Helena sat up on her knees, slowly dragging the denim down Myka’s thighs, watching inch by glorious inch as more skin was revealed to her. She wanted to touch it all, to taste it all.

She tossed the pants over her shoulder without a second thought before lowering herself back down, pressing her mouth back against Myka’s toned stomach as her hands kneaded Myka’s thighs.

She pressed a light kiss to Myka’s hip bone for biting down, lightly. The reaction was instantaneous, Myka’s hand went to her mouth, biting down on the meat of her palm to keep herself from crying out. The hands on her thighs, so achingly close to her center, coupled with the bites Helena was administering, was driving her mad.

“Take your hand out of your mouth,” Helena’s voice was thick with lust, but demanded compliance as her hands came to a stand-still. Myka’s hands went to the bars of the head board, determined to do whatever it took to be sure the woman between her thighs wouldn’t stop.

Helena ghosted her lips just above Myka’s panty line, back and forth for a moment before latching her lips on Myk’as other hip and biting, this time harder, trying to see how hard Myka wanted her to. The woman was stubbornly holding on to her moans, biting her lip and bucking up into HG.

Helena bit harder, hands pressing down on Myka’s thighs, keeping her from moving away.

When she finally felt the skin give way beneath the pressure of her teeth, the sound of Myka’s moan could no longer be contained, echoing around them. She pulled away, glancing down to admire her handy-work.

A thrill went through her upon seeing the mark that would be there for weeks, knowing that whenever Myka saw it she would be reminded of this moment, and it would serve as a sign to whoever else saw it that this woman belonged to her.

Helena’s jaw flared at the thought of anyone else touching Myka, being close enough, lucky enough to see her like this- laid out on the bed in only her laced panties, face flushed, hair haloed around her, bare chest heaving as she breathed heavily, already looking thoroughly fucked…

Helena did not share well with others what she believed to be hers.

She felt her own nails dig into the tops of Myka’s thighs with no power to stop them, she waited until Myka’s lust darkened eyes lifted to look at her.

Without breaking eye contact, HG’s tongue ran over the hip bone, providing just enough pressure to send sparks of pain and pleasure through the teeth marks.

“Mine.”

The low, almost growl that came from Helena’s mouth was nearly enough to send Myka over the edge then and there. She ran her tongue over her lips, nodding as she tried to remember how to use words.

“Yours,” She reassured her breathlessly.

Helena couldn’t resist, she kept her eyes on Myka’s as she slid the panties down her legs. Her breath stuck in her throat as she saw the woman bare in front of her.

“Gorgeous,” she breathed, taking a moment to just admire, to memorize. It didn’t last long, however, her need to feel Myka arching underneath her, to hear her moan and feel her clench around her fingers becoming over whelming.

 Myka couldn’t remember feeling this connected to someone, _needing_ someone this much as she watched Helena’s hands trail down her thighs before hooking a knee over each of her shoulders. Her back arched the second that she felt Helena’s tongue reach her core. “Oh, Gods…” she was suddenly breathless, eyes nearly fluttering shut as her hands twisted in the sheets.

“No, dear, just Helena.” The smirk she gave was almost enough undo the agent, that, and the feeling of her tongue returning to its previous activity. Just when she thought that the feelings building inside her couldn’t get any more intense, she felt fingers dancing around her entrance.

She couldn’t think properly, let alone speak, so instead Myka slid her hand into Helena’s hair once more, pulling her closer to where she needed her. That was the consent that Helena had been looking for, and she made sure to keep up a steady pace on Myka’s clit as she slowly slid a finger inside her. Between their previous activities, and vigorous use of her tongue, Helena was able to slide a second finger in without a problem, moaning at the feeling of finally being inside her, being able to taste her.

Every stroke, every thrust and she could feel Myka getting closer and closer. She experimented with faster thrusts, harder, curling her fingers inside and twisting slightly. That did the trick and she felt everything at once. Myka’s fingers knotting tighter into her hair, her walls clenching around Helena’s fingers, her back arching off the bed as a moan that sounded suspiciously like her name filled the air around them.

Helena kept her fingers inside, she kept her tongue moving on Myka’s clit, bringing her down from her orgasm. She waited until she could feel Myka’s breath evening out before she slowly slid her fingers out, causing another gasp to come from the woman.

Myka opened her eyes, watching Helena languorously climb up her body, dropping a light kiss on her lips before sucking the fingers inside her mouth and licking them clean. Helena couldn’t seem to get enough of the taste. Myka could only stare as Helena’s tongue doing to her own fingers what she’d just done to Myka’s body. Myka’s need to touch Helena, to bring her to the same bliss had her recovering quickly.

While Helena was focused on her fingers, Myka wrapped her arms around her and quickly flipped the two of them. Her thigh pressed against Helena’s still covered sex, the soaked lace telling Myka just how ready the other woman was.

While she used her fingertips tracing along the panty-line, Myka also made good use of her mouth, lowering it to capture one of Helena’s nipples inside. The gasps and moans she heard falling tumbling out of her lover’s mouth were intoxicating. She switched to peppering kisses around each nipple, teasing Helena along to keep her distracted while she moved her fingers lower.

As she went to take the other nipple into her mouth, she moved aside Helena’s panties, not even bothering to take them off, in order to finally feel her. The immediate warmth and wetness was almost too much for the both of them, each of them groaning loudly. Myka started off slowly, sliding a finger inside as she bit gently at the nipple in her mouth.

The way that Helena’s body was reacting to her touch showed her that she was well on her way to an orgasm already. Another finger slid inside, and then another. Myka changed to pressing open mouthed kisses across her torso, licking and sucking as she went. Each thrust was matched with a moan from Helena, and another kiss to her chest. With three fingers inside, Myka still wanted more.

Her hand fell to one of Helena’s breasts, kneading it roughly as she lowered herself down her body. Momentarily enraptured by the sight of her fingers disappearing into the other woman’s body, she had to pause for a moment as arousal rocketed through her once more.4

Another moan from Helena reminded her of the task at hand, and she let herself go, setting out to repeat all the patterns she’d done on Helena’s chest, this time lower down. She moaned at the taste, the vibrations causing Helena to gasp. She licked and sucked, paying attention to what made Helena react the most. Short flicks to her clit, sucking it into her mouth, a thumb pressing into it while her tongue memorized her lover’s favorites. Remembering how it felt to have Helena’s curling within her, and feeling her body responding to the sight in front of her as well as the memory, Myka repeated that movement and felt Helena falling apart above her.

Following what had been done to her, Myka helped her through the aftershocks before pulling out her fingers. Again she followed Helena’s lead, she crawled up and straddled her legs, bringing her fingers to her mouth in order to taste Helena again. Myka traced her fingers across Helena’s lips, feeling her tongue dart out to taste herself, before she leaned in to kiss her lover. The two of them rested for a moment while they recovered enough to continue.

* * *

“AGENT DONOVAN!”

Claudia yanked the head phones off, spinning in her chair to face the three people standing over her. A flash of anger, replacing the shock, washed over her. This was her lair, her space, who the fuck thought it was okay to just barge into her work space. Then came the relief that she had turned off a certain agent’s input feed when stuff started getting heated.

She shouldn’t have honestly watched as long as she had, but she was caught off guard by Myka asking Emily- who apparently had an English accent- about the murder. Then they started a really hot making out session and Claudia scrambled to cut the input before she could be scarred for life.

Myka’s bio-feed was all over the place, but Claudia had studiously been ignoring it by blasting her music and running through so much video from the places surrounding the crime scene, she felt like her eyes were going to start bleeding.

Glancing at the bio-feed now out of the corner of her eye, she was glad she had left the video off. Myka didn’t need her- erm- private time with the hot bar tender to be witnessed by Regent Lattimer, the Colonel and the dweeb they had dragged along.

“Can I help you?” Claudia’s words still came out sounding sharp, causing her superiors to narrow their eyes at her slightly.

“We have been reviewing some of the bio-feeds and archives of the agents,” Regent Lattimer stepped further into Claudia’s space, looking at the screens that covered the wall.

The redhead had taken over the attic of the B&B for her computer setup, since the access point was a hidden stair case in the back of her closet. That technically made it her room, right?

“And?” Claudia pushed, channeling her inner Myka and Rebecca as she crossed her arms and met Jane’s gaze steadily.

“And we have a few questions,” She folded her hands behind her back, “There seems to be quite fewer hours than expected.”

Claudia shrugged.

“What’s wrong with Agent Bering’s biological feedback?”

Claudia rolled her eyes before settling her glare on the source of the nasally voice, “Nothing is wrong. Everything is with in acceptable parameters- don’t touch!” She smacked his hands away from the key board labeled “ _MYKA”._

“This is showing distress signals!” he huffed as he pointed to the screen, which was showing increased brain activity, higher respiration and heart rate.

“Is that true, Agent?” Arthur stepped forward, squinting at the screen, though it all looked like squiggly lines to him.

“Look, see this?” She pointed to the colorful waves, “This is not ‘ _Help, I’m being killed_ ’ distressed. Its…” she trailed off, feeling her face grow hot, but unwilling to let them see that.

“What other kind of distressed is there?” Fargo demanded.

“Please don’t make me explain the birds and the bees to you Fargo,” Claudia snapped at him, “that would just be embarrassing for the both of us.”

The other hacker’s face burned red as he took a step away from the computer screen as if it were a bomb.

“Why is her input feed off?” Jane snapped.

“Um?” Claudia quirked an eyebrow at her, “While Myka is an objectively attractive woman, voyeurism isn’t really my thing…”

“That is unacceptable Agent!” the Regent’s voice rose higher, “Our investigation needs to be above reproach, we can’t just be turning feeds off because something exceeds your comfort level-,”

“It’s not just my comfort!” Claudia had no idea where her confidence was coming from, Jane scared her actually, knowing that at a moment’s notice the older woman could drop her right back into the asylum. “I won’t subject my agents to having their sex lives recorded for posterity! They are entitled to private lives!”

“Agent feeds and in puts are to remain on at all times!”

“MARLEE is on, it’s just not recording or relaying, if Myka needed help, her AI would alert us as long as the Agent doesn’t turn it off-,” Claudia cut herself off, realizing what she had said at the last second.

“Are you telling me the agents have turned their AI’s off?” Her voice was dangerous now, calm and low. Claudia missed the yelling, “This is unacceptable, Agent Donovan, turn Agent Bering’s feeds back on immedietly.”

“No,” Claudia shook her head.

“Are you telling me you can’t?” Jane demanded incredulously.

“I’m telling you I won’t.”

 “And just why the hell not?” Arthur demanded.

“I’ll remind you, Agent,” Jane held a hand up to stop the Colonel, “That you are knowingly defying an order. Explain yourself.”

“This team only works because we have trust in each other,” Claudia focused on remaining calm, refusing to back down, “If I turn on Bering’s feed right now while she is in no danger-,”

“We don’t know if she’s in no danger!” Fargo insisted.

“Give it a rest, Fargo, she’s fucking her girlfriend!” Claudia snapped, causing him to become a stammering fool.

“Agent Bering is in a romantic relationship?” Jane regained her attention, “With someone from the Brotherhood?”

“Not directly,” Claudia scratched the back of her head, “It’s a bartender from a brotherhood dive, and-,”

“Agent turn that input feed back on now.” She ordered.

“I refuse on the grounds that you forcing me is against my contract.” Claudia huffed.

“How so?” Jane narrowed her eyes, speaking between clenched teeth.

“Help me out here, ERIN.” She huffed, “Uh….. Oh! On the grounds that forcing me to bring up pornographic images of my fellow agent is constituted as sexual harassment!” she smiled triumphantly.

“Fine,” Jane growled, “Agent you are dismissed, Colonel, take Agent Donovan down stairs, I’m sure she’ll want to speak to her lawyer.”

“Wait, no, what?” Claudia flailed as the man began pulling her up by her arm.

“Fargo, can you turn it back on?” Jane demanded.

“It’s not my system, it’ll take a while, but I think so.” He cracked his knuckles, taking the seat that Claudia vacated.

“I swear to god Fargo of you touch my system-,” She screamed, but Arthur was stronger than he looked, and she was being dragged down the stairs.

“Alright!” She yanked her arm out of the man’s grasp as he moved to guard Claudia’s closet, “I get it!”

She turned on her heel, walking out of the room and straight to Rebecca’s room. The woman wasn’t in there, and Claudia began to panic, she didn’t know what to do, something was telling her that this was all going to end terribly. She needed help. She needed to warn Myka.

“ERIN,” Claudia snapped at her AI, “Send a ping to MARLEE. Try to get Myka’s attention, let her know… I don’t know… let her know shit’s about to hit the fan. Warn her about Lattimer.”

“ _You’re sure about this?”_ the voice pleaded, sounding concerned for Claudia, “ _If… when they get to your own archived files with me, they’ll know that you didn’t tell them everything, that you helped Agent Bering with whatever trouble she’s getting into now.”_

“You do anything you can to protect your family. Damn the consequences,” Claudia’s voice cracked as she pulled apart Becks’ computer, trying to find a way to buy Myka a few more minutes.

* * *

Myka slowly made her way back to consciousness, becoming aware of every part of herself as she kept her eyes shut to the world. The ache in her muscles, the mild stinging on her back, the delicious soreness between her thighs… her body arched into the warmth beside her, sighing in contentment when she was pulled closer.

She was so close to giving in, falling back asleep, when she heard it again. The noise that had woken her from her rightfully earned sleep, rousing her just a bit more, just enough for panic to worm it’s way in, setting in her heart and setting it to racing.

_What have I done?_

Her eyes opened slowly, peaking at first, willing the previous hours activities to have been part of another far too detailed dream. But there, peacefully sleeping beside her, hair sexed up, a pleased smile on her face and completely naked, was HG Wells.

Myka carefully rolled away, pausing each time Helena seemed to begin waking.

_What have I done?_

The question repeated it’s self over and again as Myka scrambled to find enough articals of clothing to cover herself.

“ _Good, you’re up_.”

“Jesus fuck!” Myka hissed, grasping at the front of her chest, nearly dropping everything when MARLE’s voice crackled through her skull.

“ _There’s a problem_.” The AI continued as if she hadn’t just very nearly given her host a heart attack.

“Don’t you think I can see that Marls?” Myka tiptoed out of the bedroom, trying to jump her way into pants without falling over the sofa, “I just… I just… I just slept with her. Her! I- I’m…” she sat heavily, her head in her hands.

Confused? No, that didn’t quite fit. She had wanted nothing more but that woman asleep in the other room from the moment she first lay eyes on her. And having her hadn’t lessened the need one bit.

Compromised. That was it. She was compromised. She had just slept with arguably the most powerful person in the most influential mob in America and she didn’t feel guilty or torn.

She had lost herself, they all had, when they began this assignment. They were told to abandon themselves to their new identities and they had. They were now left floundering for what was real, what was the truth.

Myka should have been rushing to her superiors. Told them about HG Wells, exploited her feelings like she was ordered to. But instead, she felt more loyalty to this… this supposedly wicked villain than the white knights who recruited her.

Myka needed to settle herself. To center herself with simple truths.

“The sky is blue.” She began, sitting up straight, eyes screwed shut in concentration, “My name is Myka Bering,”

“ _Myka, now’s really not the time_ -,”

“Just give me a second, would you?” She snapped, “My name is Myka Ophelia Bering, I was born October 23, 2090 in Colorado Springs. And I-,” her eyes snapped open, eyes looking to the still open door of the bedroom, “And I am in love.”

The whispered confession hung heavily in the silence for a moment, alive and out there for the world to dispute.

“Shit.” Myka huffed, letting her head fall back to the couch, pressing her palms into her eyes, “What have I gotten myself into.”

“ _Okay, you’ve had your epiphany, now listen, Agent_!” MARLE snapped in a tone Myka hadn’t ever heard from her before, “ _You’re team is being evaluated, all archived footage watched and decoded, that Fargo character has remote access to me and the other AIs_.”

“What does that mean?” Myka’s heart thudded loudly in her ears.

“ _It means that it’s only a matter of time before they review all the stupid shit you and your team members have done and bring in the big guns_.”

“I thought we had a few weeks?” Myka’s voice was getting shrill, but she couldn’t seem to help it as panic set in.

“ _That was before Regent Lattimer realized you all were turning off your feeds when it was inconvenient_.”

“Shit, that means they know-,”

“ _Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time, they have your feed on now, but I doubt Fargo is giving you his undivided attention_.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Hey,” a voice that wasn’t coming from inside her head had Myka’s eyes snapping up, there, standing in the doorway wearing a button down shirt and not much else, was the object of Myka’s worry.

“Hey.” she squeaked back, shooting to her feet, clearing her throat and scratching the back of her neck, “You’re awake.”

“The bed got rather cold without you in it,” Helena smiled, pulling away from the door and taking a few steps towards Myka, “Why do you look so worried, you’re not having second thoughts about what we did are you?”

The bad ass mob boss suddenly looked shy as she played with the hem of the shirt that barely brushed the tops of her thighs.

“No,” Myka shook her head quickly, “Of course not, it’s just…” she cut herself off with a groan, still conflicted and unsure what to do.

“Is it because of who I am? Because I lied to you?” She continued to advance on the currently dumb struck agent.

Myka felt like she was going to be sick, her eyes darting around in a panic, looking for a way out of this situation, but Helena didn’t seem to notice.

“I wanted to tell you from the beginning. Believe me, lying to you was the hardest thing. I was going to tell you who I really was-,”

“Stop.” Myka finally ground out, “Stop talking,” she shook her head frantically, trying to get something across.

Helena was about to incriminate herself, and Myka couldn’t- _wouldn’t_ let Helena be…

“I’m trying to be honest, Myka,” HG furrowed her brows, “Like you wanted, like I should have. There’s so much you don’t know, I need to explain why-,”

“Helena, please,” Myka plead, hiding her face behind her hands, “MARLE, turn off surveillance.” She mumbled so the other woman couldn’t hear.

“I can’t, there’s a new protocol!” MARLE sounded frantic, “A full system shut down is all you can do, and that’s only for emergencies, there’s no telling what it would do-,”

“It doesn’t have to change anything, Myka.” Helena was begging her to understand, “Who I am, this part of my life is a very small part of it, if you just give me a moment to explain-,”

“MARLE force system shut down!” Myka barked out suddenly, damn the consequences.

A sudden pan ripped through Myka’s skull. Dizzying, nauseating, blinding pain. She swayed, unsteady on her feet, the wind knocked from her as if from a physical blow. There was a steady ringing in her ears, muffling the world around her.

“Myka!” Helena gasped, catching her before she fell, easing them both to the ground until she lay with her head cradling in Helena’s lap.

Myka gasped for air, willing the pain, the sheer feeling of emptiness to disappear, “I’m okay,” she blinked away the spots in her vision, “I’m alright.” She sat up, her body aching at the loss of contact as she put space between her and Helena.

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t just throw Helena to the wolves. She may have been HG Wells but she wasn’t the villain the Warehouse claimed she was. Myka could see that. She needed Helena to be safe. And not just her, but Clair and Wolly too. Myka had formed too many attatchments that she just could not risk to be caught in the cross fire.

Myka’s file said she was loyal to a fault. Perhaps the Warehouse hoped it would be they who she was loyal to.

“What is going on, Myka?” there was fear and worry in HG’s eyes as she traced over Myka’s shaking body carefully as they both rose to their feet.

“Helena, you have to listen to me,” Myka grabbed Helena’s upper arms, forcing the other woman to maintain eye contact, “You, Wolly, Clair, you have to get out of town, _now_.” Her voice was groggy and she was still fighting against the darkness encroaching on her vision.

“What?” Helena ducked her head in confusion though she didn’t pull back, she still seemed concerned for Myka’s well-being, “Myka, what are you talking about?”

“I-I know that this is… I didn’t know…” Myka insisted, shaking her head as the sound of rushing blood slowly drowned out the electrical humming in her head, “You have to believe me I didn’t know who you were, and I didn’t tell them-,”

“Who?” HG’s eyes flashed with a darker emotion now, not quite anger, almost betrayal, “What did you do, Myka?”

“It’s not what I did, I would never…” her throat was tightening, she was choking on her own confession, “It’s who I am, and what my bosses are planning to do.”

“Who are you?” Her eyes narrowed as she spoke through tightly clenched teeth, “Who the bloody hell are you, Myka?” she shoved her backwards, Myka stumbled, struggling to remain upright.

“I- I’m Myka Bering, I’m an agent with the Warehouse.” She rushed out.

Suddenly Myka’s back was against the wall in a mockery of their earlier embrace. One of Helena’s hand wrapped tightly around her throat, the other making a ruckus in the side table beside them.

“I hope for your sake that this is a cruel joke.” Her eyes were flint, her voice dead, as cold metal was placed into Myka’s rib, aiming for her heart.


	26. A Sheep in Wolves Clothing

_ How _ _had so much gone so wrong so fast? Hadn’t she just convinced herself the best night of her life had been occurring? Didn’t she just have the woman she loved in her hands? Hadn’t she just thought herself happy?_

_The blood on her hands made her feel sick._

* * *

 

“Stop. Stop talking,”  Myka shook her head back and forth, her eyes wide as she took a step back from her, looking frightened.

“I’m trying to be honest, Myka,” Helena’s heart was fissuring slightly, was Myka really afraid of her? Did she regret what they had done because of who she was? Surely she knew that Helena wasn’t the bad guy rumor made her out to be. She had to get a chance to explain.

 “Like you wanted,” Helena reminded her, stepping forward once more, slowly, trying not to frighten Myka further, “Like I should have. There’s so much you don’t know, I need to explain why-,”

“Helena, please,” Myka was begging, her hands up in front of her as if to physically stop Helena. The other woman mumbled something unintelligibly that Helena couldn’t catch, leaving the woman to wish she would just _talk_ to her.

She needed to know that her position in the Brotherhood wouldn’t effect what they had, didn’t even really effect who she was.

 “It doesn’t have to change anything, Myka.” She assured her, “Who I am, this part of my life is a very small part of it, if you just give me a moment to explain-,”

“MARLE force system shut down!” Myka souden;y shouted, causing Helena to flinch slightly, but not enough not to notice the effect these words seemed to have on their ouwn speaker.

It reminded Helena of a darker time in her life, cowering on the cold floor, a menacing presence standing over her. But she refused to give in. she had survived too much to die begging for mercy, to flinch, to look away. So she stared him in the eye. Had she not, she would have missed the look on his face when the back of his head was introduced to a two by four.

 “Myka!” Helena lurched forward, catching the other woman as she crumpled, her face pale, eyes unseeing as her mouth grimaced. Helena ran her hands over Myka, trying to sooth her, figure out what happened, what was going on, wanting to help but having no idea how.

 “I’m alright.” Her voice was weak, but she was able to pull away, to rise on shaky legs, to step back from Helena, and HG tried not to let that hurt.

 “What is going on, Myka?”  Helena followed Myka to her feet, eyes looking over her, wishing the other woman would sit down, she didn’t look so well and that worried her.

“Helena, you have to listen to me,” Myka’s voice was grave as she suddenly leaned forward and grabbed Helena’s arms as if for support. “You, Wolly, Clair, you have to get out of town, now.”

“What?” HG shook her head, unsure of where this was going and concerned that whatever it was was taking its toll on her, “Myka, what are you talking about?”

“I-I know that this is… I didn’t know…” Myka swallowed, shaking her head, her voice breaking over the words “You have to believe me I didn’t know who you were, and I didn’t tell them-,”

“Who?” poison curled in HG’s stomach, suddenly it was she who wanted Myka to stop talking, not wanting to hear what it was she was trying to say. “What did you do, Myka?”

“It’s not what I did, I would never…” there were tears in Myka’s eyes now, “It’s who I am, and what my bosses are planning to do.”

“Who are you?” HG spat out between clenched teeth, anger and easier emotion than the darkness curling in around her heart and pulling it apart, “Who the bloody hell are you, Myka?” she shoved her backwards without thinking, and Myka stumbled, hands grasping for something to steady herself.

“I- I’m Myka Bering, I’m an agent with the Warehouse.” She rushed out.

 Betrayal, anger, and devastation washed through her. Helena’s hand wrapped around her throat, holding her up against a wall and squeezing, a gun from the end table in her hand, pressed into the agents side.

“I hope for both our sakes that this is some sort of cruel joke.” But she could see even as she said the words, the look of hopelessness in Myka’s eyes, the sorrow, that said she wasn’t lying.

“Please, Helena,” Myka’s voice was strained under the increasing pressure, “Please, you have to-,” she was turning red now, eye lids fluttering, but Helena couldn’t seem to process what this meant.

“I have to _what_ Myka? What do I _have_ to do?” she clenched her teeth as angry tears threatened to spill over, “You have been _lying_ to me this entire time! Spying on me! And you expect me to, what, let you go? Let you run back to the Warehouse and tell them how you fucked the infamous HG Wells and learned all her secrets?”

“No!” Myka shouted, or tried to as best she could will what force she could muster, “No,” it was softer this time, though there was a fire still lit in her eyes.

Helena’s hand loosened ever so slightly, allowing room for a breath, room for Myka to speak, internally yelling at herself for being swayed by a single utterance.

“Kill me if you have to, I understand, I don’t care,” Myka’s voice was weak, sounding as if she had gargled a gallon of salt water, “I hope you don’t, please, I don’t want to be wrong about you, Helena. All I want is to protect you.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” Helena demanded, sounding more confused and sad than angry, “How can I believe anything you say now?”

“Because I love you.” She said the words as if they were simple, as if it was a long known unspoken truth between them and the universe.

“Don’t. Don’t say that now. Now it’s … it’s tainted.” Helena choked out, “Don’t tell me you love me now.”

Myka didn’t press it, “Helena.” She spoke instead, an undercurrent of urgency in her tone “Helena please, you have to listen to me. This town will be swimming in agents soon. And they will do whatever it takes to take control of the city. You and Wolly and Clair, you need to get out of the city while you still can. Please, they don’t know about you, they don’t even believe you exist.”

There was a warmth on Helena’s hand, sticky and wet and she realized the hand still pressed on Myka’s throat was slowly being coated in a stream of crimson.

“You’re bleeding.” She released Myka suddenly, the other woman crumpled to the floor, coughing as blood trickled out of her ears, “What’s wrong with you?”

“I had some nanobots in my brain that I shut down,” Myka blinked slowly, staring down at her hands as they shook slightly.

“You… what?” Helena shook her head, but Myka didn’t seem to be answering, just tangled her hands in her own hair, sitting on the floor with her elbows on her knees.

Helena watched her for a long moment, trying to process everything, “Who are you?” she had asked to before, getting a name and rank in response, but she needed to match up the Myka she had known with the woman before her now.

“I’m a cop,” She let out a humorless chuckle, “Or I was. Before all this. I was good at my job. I was damn good at my job. It was what I always wanted to do. Then I get swooped up a few months ago and here I am.”

“You were a cop.” Helena shut her eyes, so many small nuances about Myka suddenly making sense.

“Homicide detective, until my partner and best friend was murdered.” Myka looked up at HG once more, as if double checking that she remembered the story that had been shared, “I just wanted to help people. I don’t want to hurt anyone, and I don’t want to hurt you. So please, Helena, please go before it’s too late.”

Myka struggled to her feet.

“Where are you going?” Helena sounded lost.

“If I don’t return to them, they’ll come looking for me.” Myka huffed, leaning heavily on the wall as she walked, stumbled, her way towards the door, “Which is counterproductive if I want to keep you safe.”

Helena wanted to reach out, to stop Myka. To keep her from going back to those people. To keep her _safe._ But if what Myka was saying was true.

A sob caught in Helena’s throat, a small sound escaping before she could choke it back completely. Myka had seen the crack in the armor, stopped in her movements to reach out for her, but Helena couldn’t have that. She snapped the walls back down, they were unsure, but they would have to last only a moment.

“Leave.” Her voice was hard, and it startled Myka.

“Helena-,” her voice plead and GH nearly broke at the sound of it.

“Myka, leave!” Ice filled her once warm eyes as she leveled them at the other woman, “You’ve done quite enough damage. And I hope, for your sake, what you have told me never comes to pass.”

Helena turned her face and waited, listening to the soft shuffling sounds of Myka’s feet, waiting until the door closed with a soft _snick_ before she broke down. She fell to her knees, the gun clanging to the ground.

Her arms shook as she looked at her crimson stained palms, trying to scrub them together to get the blood off, but it wasn’t working, and she gave up with a cry of frustration that devolved into just crying.

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, trying to stay in the present, trying to keep her pieces from scattering once more.

It all felt so surreal. Surely this had to be a nightmare. The twisted result of her tragedy tainted, over active imagination. There was no way the woman she had fallen in love with was a Warehouse agent. No deity in the universe was so cruel as to spin that fate for her.

It simply wasn’t possible for the Myka Bering she knew to be a part of the corporation that aided in the total destruction of her life. Myka, with her values and need to help everyone, who was so smart and intuitive, couldn’t be a part of that.

She held tighter to herself, but it wasn’t enough, she felt herself slipping away as she surrendered to the fact that the Warehouse had taken from her, yet again, the thing she loved.

Objectively, she knew this wasn’t as bad as the last time. Not as bad, but still so damn painful. She knew from past experience the pain had to run its course, she needed to let it break her so she could build herself back up stronger.

“ _The only child of a Hive elite…”_

“No.” HG clapped her hands over her ears, trying to stop the words from trickling back in like poison. But it was useless.

 _“We can’t destroy them completely,”_ the man’s voice echoed all around her, and she buried her head in her knees, letting the memory have its moment, letting it take over…

* * *

 

_The silence in the hospital that hung around them was deafening. Helena’s ears ached for a cry she knew she wouldn’t hear but kept listening for anyway._

_“Where’s my daughter?” she demanded, her voice weak from exhaustion and dehydration. Twenty seven hours of labor followed by ten hours of trying to sooth her colicky newborn. An internal alarm had gone off when her body decided it had been quiet too long. Only, she had woken to a man she didn’t recognize sitting in her visiting chair and an empty hospital cradle._

_“Mrs. Stephon, my name is Adwin Kosan.” He leant forward, elbows on knees, “I’m a Regent with the Warehouse, do you know who we are?”_

_“You’re some federal agency,” Helena blinked, “Why are you here, where is my daughter?” her voice grew in strength as she let her eyes wander, noticing the two suited men standing guard at her door._

_“The Warehouse has taken the baby into protective custody.”_

_“What? Why? Where’s Christina?” the heart monitor beside her noted the her panic, though no one paid the frantic beeping any mind._

_“She’s the only child of a Hive elite,” he rose to his feet, moving to stand at the window overlooking the hospital parking lot, “We can’t destroy them, not completely. Not while they are keeping another threat in check for us. But we can’t let them have free reign either. We leave Senator Stephon in charge of Wisconsin, let him have his little play ground out here, but use his daughter to keep him in line.”_

_“What?” the blood drained from Helena’s face, and all feeling left her limbs as his words began to process._

_“She will be delivered safely back to you once he is in our custody.” HE assured her with a slight tilt of his head, “And you could help us with that, make it all go a bit faster, a bit more smoothly, Mrs. Stephon.”_

_“Wells,” Helena snapped, a rage the likes of which she had never known filled her, “I never agreed to marry that pig, much like I never agreed to let you use_ my _daughter as leverage over a sociopathic mobster!” she gripped the railing of her bed, pulling herself up, “You will give my daughter back to me this instant.”_

_“I’m so sorry you’re refusing to help us, Mrs. Stephon.” Kosan moved for the door, turning her back on the cursing woman, “But the child will remain a ward of the Warehouse until further notice. Perhaps you’d like to reconsider?” he turned his head to look at her over his shoulder, “We couldn’t let you see her of course, but we could give you updates on her condition as long as you cooperate-,”_

_“Go fuck yourself!” she spat, “Give me my daughter back damnit!”_

_Helena couldn’t lose her, not after all she had been through. Little Christina, her baby, she was the light, she was the one good thing Helena would have, the only thing that would make everything worth it. If she lost her daughter, she herself would also be lost._

_The agents were holding her down now as she struggled._

_“I really am sorry you couldn’t see this our way, Mrs. Stephon,” Kosan shook his head, “Take her until she calms.” And with that, he was gone._

_Helena screamed and fought against their hold, but she was weak from a troublesome pregnancy and a lengthy labor and she couldn’t fight quite hard enough to be free of their ever tightening grip._

_Eventually, a nurse was called in to sedate her, and she fought the darkness tooth an nail._

_But as she was learning, the darkness always won._


	27. Valda

The summer air was hot- sticky and thick with an incoming storm as black clouds gathered on the horizon. It smelled of rain, not yet fallen, and hot concrete, though Myka didn’t notice any of this. She shivered as she stumbled up the path leading to a red door that meant home. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, and she never remembered feeling so cold in her life, even as hair was matted to her face with sweat.

Her hand fumbled uselessly with the door handle a few times, and a sob wracked her body as she leaned her head on the door.

She drew a breath, attempting to compose herself before meeting whatever awaited her on the other side of that door, she could still taste blood as she licked her lips. She knew she probably looked terrible, but she felt a whole hell of a lot worse.

Sweet cool air washed over her face, and she inhaled sharply in response, closing her eyes briefly, enjoying this one moment of reprieve. Then the dozens of voices barking back and forth registered in her still muddled mind and she peeled her eyelids back, finally taking in her surroundings.

The once warm and welcoming space that had become her home over the last couple of months had transformed into a crude forward operating base for a myriad of agents she neither knew nor trusted.

There were thick, black curtains nailed around all the windows; all other doors leading to the outside world were now barricaded; harsh, blindingly bright led lamps illuminated every shadow. All the furniture had been shoved to one wall or removed from the room, leaving space for the four giant white boards, a wall of surveillance screens and a giant, scale sized, 3D map of Univille on a table, different pieces being moved and rearranged all over the board.

And not a member of her team in sight.

Myka shuffled slowly through the room, so far unnoticed by the eclectic group. Some of the people wearing sharp, darker than black suits, some in military fatigue, and some in street clothes, but they all had on the same aura of urgency, same sharp, focused eyes as they yelled back and forth, studying the boards, computers, maps, paper files, electronic tablets, dozens of people all rushing around.

Myka’s world had never felt more claustrophobic than in that moment. The room was spinning as her vision grew dark around the edges. She was bumped, turned, snapped at to “look alive, soldier!” She felt like she was stuck on a tilt-a-whirl as bile rose in her throat.

Her eyes snapped into focus as one word stuck out in stark contrast to the rest of the world. _HG WELLS_ was written as a header on one of the white boards, and Myka stalked towards it with a singular purpose, to find out what they knew.

She could see the other boards with various names written on them, James McPherson, Walter Sykes, Marcus Diamond, Sally Stukowski and Nathaniel Watkins were a few. And there was very little white space left on their boards. There didn’t seem to be much written under Wells’ header, but it wasn’t blank either, and Myka needed to know what it said.

Just before she reached her destination, her path was blocked by a man with thinning black hair, greying scruff and a smarmy look on his face.

“Agent Bering,” he greeted with the voice of a snake oil salesman, “So good of you to finally join us. You have some serious explaining to do.”

His words sent a chill down her spine, and not just because they held the same accent of the woman whose name was plastered all around them, there was a sinister, suspicious tone vibrating beneath them and the switch in Myka’s brain that decided fight of flight flipped in favor of her running away.

He must have seen the look in her eye, because his hand shot out to grab her arm, squeezing it painfully tight just above her elbow. Myka’s body reacted before her brain had fully processed the move, grabbing the man’s arm with her own captured hand, reversing his move and twisting his arm up at a painful angle behind his back.

She panted hard from the relatively mild exertion of energy. Everything around her came to a screeching halt as everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and stared at Myka. As she was understanding the severity of her action, the man growled lowly, an undertone of pain audible in his voice, “I would think very carefully on your next move before you make it, _Agent._ ”

“Myka,” A soft but sever voice called out from somewhere behind her, like a mother who can’t scold a child in present company, “Release the Regent immediately.”

She dropped her hold, the man stumbled forward, trying to rub the pain away as he shot her and accusatory glare, “Your list of transgressions are swiftly growing Agent Bering, and you’ll be answering to them, _now._ ”

“I’d speak to my Agent first, Regent Valda,” Mrs. Fredric moved to stand between the two, her back to Myka, “She does still have a right to counsel before her questioning.”

“For now,” Regent Valda leveled a glare at the woman who stood in the way, “We shall see what rights she has left after the debriefing,”

Irene turned to her charge, speaking in a low, clipped tone, “Go upstairs, see Dr. Calder. I shall be up shortly to speak with you. Go now.”

Myka did as she was told, Agents parted for her, their whispers washing over her, each voice indistinguishable from the last. It reminded her of her last day at her old precinct. Another life time ago.

Myka forced her feet to work themselves up the steps, needing to plant her feet on each step together, leaving sweaty handprints on the banister in her wake as she pulled herself up, panting heavily and blinking away the spots clouding her vision.

Strong hands caught her as she tripped on the landing, she allowed herself a brief moment of rest in the familiar arms of her partner.

“Where the hell were you?” Pete demanded as he crushed her to her chest, squeezing what little breath she could pull in from her lungs.

“Need… Vanessa….” She huffed hoarsely.

That’s when Pete finally looked down at her, shock and concern filled his eyes and he dragged her backwards, “Jesus, Mykes, what did you do?” He ducked his head into different rooms as they continued their trek down the seemingly endless hallway.

“It’s a long story,” she sighed.

“Agent Lattimer!” Vanessa’s sweet voice called out, a few feet before them, “Bring her here.” She beckoned.

They stumbled, Pete now holding up most of Myka’s weight, into Myka’s own bedroom. She collapsed gratefully into her own bed, burying her nose in the sheets. She could still smell Helena. The woman’s scent was everywhere, on the shirt Myka borrowed, in her hair, on her fingers… She needed an escape from it to think clearly.

There was murmuring above her, and Myka grumbled, trying desperately to convey the message “ _Go away”_ with as little effort as possible. She heard her door click shut and she sighed in relief for the moment alone. But she quickly realized she wasn’t alone as a gentle but firm hand rolled her over by the shoulder and concerned eyes met hers.

“Sit up dear, let me have a look at you,” Dr. Calder sighed, pulling the Agent upright.

She pulled a white rag and a clear bottle from her black bag, pouring the sharp smelling liquid onto the rag and shaking her head, “What have you gotten yourself into?”

She wiped gently at Myka’s skin, the smell of rubbing alcohol permeating the air, erasing all other scents. Dr. Calder wiped away the blood from Myka’s ears, face, neck, the rag quickly turning from a crisp white to a splotchy, rust colored mess.

Vanessa brought a light to the younger woman’s eyes, checking their responsiveness, two fingers finding the pulse in her wrist with an ease that came from years of practice. She frowned deeply, “What happened to you dear?”

Myka’s pale features took on a crimson blush, “Um, I disabled the nanobots living in my head.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened, “Myka!” she gasped, “You have no idea what damage that may have caused, we need to get Nikoli and Philo down here. You may have severe brain damage, you may be bleeding internally, you need an MRI.” Dr. Calder scrambled around her bag in search of her cell phone, hoping to get the mad scientists on the next available plane.

“I’m afraid the MRI will have to wait, Doctor,” Irene stood in the door way, her face as unreadable as ever as she kept her eyes on her Agent, “Thank you for seeing to her, but we need a moment alone.”

Dr. Calder nodded, still dialing the numbers for the wild inventors currently housed in Warehouse 1. She left, pulling the door shut behind her.

The air was thick with tension as Mrs. Fredric took carefully measured steps closer to Myka’s place on the bed. The Agent stood out of habitual respect for the woman, but the ice glare grew colder, “Sit.” She was ordered.

“Now, you will talk to me, Myka Bering,” Irene threatened, then proceeded to not let Myka get a word in edge wise.

“Your team is being debriefed, all the information you’ve gathered, every action under the high powered microscope of Warehouse IA. Everyone else has been taken to the Warehouse for questioning. Agent Lattimer was the last to head down for transport. After you’re done speaking with me, you, too, will be taken. Regent Valda is heading the inquiry and task force.

“He is going to be asking you some questions,” The lawyer continued, “try and figure out what you have learned, and then determine whether you will be court martialed or allowed to continue with your mission. I can’t be with you during your debriefing, so I need to tell you now what you need to know. Tell the truth. Benedict Valda is the Warehouse’s attack dog, and he’ll sniff out what he wants to know regardless.

“Even if you can’t,” Irene’s voice turned slightly pleading, “Even if it’s terrible, it is in your best interest to tell the truth. It will make my job so much easier in the long run.”

 _The truth?_ Myka wasn’t even sure what the truth was anymore. Her whole world had been tilted on its axis, and all color had blended to a bleak grey.

“Your time’s up, Counselor.” Valda, with two cookie cutter federal agents stood in the bedroom door way, “The Agent is coming with us now.”

Irene nodded, “Do be careful with her, she’s suffered a head injury.” She glared at the men spectacularly.

“Am I allowed to change?” she croaked out, “Or do you expect me to give you my statement while still covered in blood?”

“You have five minutes.” The Regent allowed.

He was true to his word, giving her not a second more or less than five minutes, and no one thought to give her any privacy.

They stood on either side of her, each grabbing one arm to carry her down stairs, not releasing their grip until they were outside, beside a black SUV that had its engine already running. Myka was grateful for that, at least, the air conditioner had been running, creating a cool oasis in the day that seemed to only be growing hotter.

She closed her eyes during the ride, the windows too tinted to look out regardless. Myka thought of the inquiry to come, the questions she would be asked, wondering how she would be able to answer them while still protecting those she loved.

_Why did you compromise yourself, Agent Bering? Why would you endanger your team, your mission, this warehouse? Was it worth it?_

Was it worth it? Would it be worth it to try and lie to the Warehouse’s attack dog? Could she even get away with it? And what would happen to her if she couldn’t? What would happen to her team? To the town of Univille?

What would happen to Helena?

Her heart beat pounded in her ears as the car ride became bumpy, jerking her back and forth in her seat, signaling that they were getting close to the old IRS building where Warehouse 13 was located.

She had to protect everyone. She had to try and find a way to tell the truth without getting Helena in trouble, without taking herself out of the mission, because she had to see it through. She had to take down the Brotherhood if she stood a chance to survive this without being killed by either team.

“Wake up, Agent,” Valda yanked the door open, light flooding into her sensitive eyes, “Judgement Day.”


	28. Let the Chips Fall Where They May pt. I

**ARTHUR**

"Colonel Arthur Neilson." The snarky voice boomed around the cavernous room, pulling the farce of a debriefing to order, "Commanding officer and team leader of the clandestine order: Warehouse 13. Is that correct?"

Artie adjusted his glasses on his nose, scowling at Valda as the man paced the area before the table he was sat at, appearing to be enjoying nothing more than a late morning stroll, "Yes, that's correct."

"You've been with the Warehouse team for nearly twenty years now. You trained and apprenticed at Warehouse 1, you were placed in Warehouse 11, where you served as agent, team leader and then commanding officer. You were a decorated officer in the Navy, worked closely with the NSA and have commendations from all of your superior officers. You have solved over 100 cases with the Warehouse, you have a conviction rate of 92 percent. Am I missing anything, Colonel?"

Arthur's arms crossed, laying atop his gut, which had been slowly getting larger as of late, "That seems to be a correct, if brief summarization of my career."

"Is this the first time you've been brought before members of the counsel to discuss your actions, and the actions of your team?" Valda turned to look at the longer table that sat seven Regents, all watching the veteran with quick eyes.

"I have been debriefed after missions before, but this is the first time I've had an investigation interrupted, the actions of myself and my team questioned in such a way that we were seen as guilty before we've had a chance to open our mouths." The Colonel snapped.

"Then why, Colonel Neilson, when you and your previous teams have always been above reproach, has my investigation found such great ineptitude? Unreported actions from your agents, tampering with Warehouse equipment, evidence going on ignored or discarded of… you, a man who has been beyond reproach, why have you let your team run wild over this operation?"

"Warehouse 13 is a test facility," Artie worked to keep his tone even, "They wanted us to work undercover, to hide our actions from other Warehouse teams, from other Regents, from everyone. No one was to know about us, so perhaps the reason we look like we are keeping secrets, is because we are following orders."

"Just following orders, then," Valda huffed, "Care to explain then why your team has refused to cooperate with our investigation when they were ordered to disclose all information to my agents?"

"My agents, my team, has been self-reliant since this mission started. We were abandoned out here by the head office, left to figure it out on our own. I'm sure you've seen what happens to police officers who are undercover, the bonds formed with their contact, their partner, stronger than anything else. When you came stomping in threatening my team, they closed ranks as is their training."

"Closed ranks…" the man chuckled, "Yes, your team seems to be much closer than anticipated, working independently from each other, and yet functioning as a formidable unit. Almost like a family. Tell me, Arthur, do you think you're protecting your team now because you've all grown too close, become more akin to a family? Do you think this is perhaps true since you yourself have had no family to speak of since before your Naval recruitment?"

Arthur's eyes narrowed, "I made my team a promise, Regent, I promised that if they did their job, as long as they did what was best for the warehouse, for the team, I would defend their actions."

"And you're still willing to defend them now? After what some of them have done?"

"I don't know what you're insinuating." Arthur's voice was steadily rising.

"It's time you admit to this court, to yourself, that you've given your team far too much leash, and now they've hung themselves with it."

**JACK**

The suit was itchy, stiff from disuse.

He missed the soft cotton of his new uniform immensely, but he had pulled out his dress blues from the back of the closet for the occasion. He knew what to do once the words "court martialed" were used on him. After the bombing of London and then again after he was nearly crippled by friendly fire, Jack had spent months trapped in military proceedings.

His hair, having grown shaggy over the last few months, was now closely cropped to his head, he was clean shaven for the first time in… well he couldn't even remember when he last had no stubble. He sat ram rod straight in his chair, his cap on the table before him, he kept his eyes straight ahead, refusing to look at the British man glaring him down.

"Sargent Secord," he spoke, contempt barely contained in his clipped tone, "You are a highly decorated Marine." He feinted impressed as he glanced down at the manila folder in his hand, "Tell me about your military career."

"Most of it is classified, Sir." Jack responded.

"I see, I would ask why, but I feel I may know the answer. You were stationed in London during the war? Up until a week after the attack, is that correct?"

"If that's what it says in that file."

"You were given a Purple Heart and an honorable discharge." Valda continued, "But that's all your papers say: Secord, Jack, Master Sargent. Stationed in London England. This is followed by eight black pages. Then at the very end it says, honorable discharge, August 5th 2118. Tell us about your injury, Sargent."

"Bullet missed my spine by three quarters of an inch." He grumbled, "I was able to return to duty after a short rehab and PT."

"Was this before or after you made Master Sargent." Valda asked.

"With all due respect, Regent Valda, I don't know what this has to do with Warehouse 13, Sir." Jack finally looked at the man, who smiled slowly at the break.

"I'm just wondering if your secretive past was a key proponent in your recruitment to the Warehouse, for this very mission."

"I wouldn't know, Sir, all I am aware of was my country needed me once more and I answered the call."

"Now, while your military background may have gone through the President's black marker treatment, I have been given full access to your Warehouse file. Do you mind if we look through it?"

It felt like a trap, something inside Jack was screaming bad bad bad, but he nodded in the affirmative regardless.

"Jack Emery Secord," Valda began in a booming voice, "Master Sargent in the Marine Corps, Honorably discharged, exemplary record. Health: Smoker, gunshot wound to the back- fully recovered. Physically fit. Born June 8, 2088, Sacramento, California. Family: Mother- deceased. Father- estranged. No siblings. You passed every test in training, even had the fastest time in the obstacle course." He sounded almost impressed, but it was all for show.

"Why don't you tell us about your mission at the Warehouse?" he snapped the file shut.

"I'm sure you've read my reports." Jack evaded, looking away from the man once more.

"Yes, I have," Valda agreed, "But I want to hear it from you, Agent."

Jack took a breath, "My team and I were stationed in Univille, South Dakota, and tasked to garner information on the gang known as The Brotherhood. I was one of two undercover agents told to specifically target Walter Sykes, alleged leader of the gang."

"And tell the other Regents what you did to infiltrate this gang."

Jack felt the blood drain from his face, but he bit down on the guilt and answered strongly, "I began as a low level drug dealer and worked my way up in the Brotherhood's market, working directly under James Aquilo."

"And how did you stumble upon such a promotion?" Valda pushed.

"I was… good at selling drugs." He struggled to swallow the guilt that sat heavy in his throat, "That got me noticed by the bigger heads, then, almost a month ago, there was a big drug bust. I was there along with two of Sykes men. The heads of the smaller gangs had all gathered in one room, under the pretense of bidding on a new drug. All hell broke loose when cops came blasting through the doors, killing and arresting everyone in the building. But Sykes men and myself got off on a few technicalities that I pointed out to our arresting officers."

"And who was that?" Valda asked slickly.

"Agent Steven Jinks and his partner at the precinct, Sally Stukowski."

"Hmm, interesting," Valda rubbed the stubble on his chin, "And after this incident, what became of your career in the Brotherhood."

"I began answering to only Aquilo and Sykes. I kept track of all the dealers and Aquilo was in charge of all the suppliers and shipments."

"Please, tell the other regents and myself what you have learned on this mission. What of value can you tell us about Sykes?"

"All Sykes cares about is his name and his money." Jack's lip twitched with disdain, "He has no morals, the very definition of a sociopath. The Brotherhood was just a fast track to the good life, he doesn't seem to have the same outlook as the other's in the organization."

"Which is what?"

"To make and rule a world where everyone benefits from their empowerment."

"And how did you come to know this particular stance? Or is it mere conjecture?" Valda demanded.

"From the men in the company I've worked with. Marcus Diamond and James Aquilo both believe that the Brotherhood can offer a better life than what the other gangs or even the Warehouse can offer."

"And what is it you believe, Agent?"

Jack's face fell carefully blank, "It's not my job to judge their viewpoints. I was tasked with infiltration and the eventual apprehension of the patriarchs ruling the Brotherhood."

"So," Valda's eyes narrowed, "It's still about the mission for you. The one your superior officers gave you."

"The mission is why I am here, sir."

**REBECCA**

The polish on her nails had slowly been picked away. Piece by piece by piece, it fell in a little pile of black shavings between the space where her thighs met.

That was the only sign of Rebecca St. Clair's fraying nerves. Her face was hard as steel, her hair pulled into a sever bun, her uniform pressed and creased. A few of those sitting in quiet judgment had a hard time looking at her cold eyes as they seemed to bore through them all, Valda most of all.

"I don't know what you're insinuating, sir." her tone sharpened, a warning for the man venturing perilously close to the crouched lioness.

"I merely want to know what your job was in this mission." Valda's slick smile turned a knot in Rebecca's stomach, there was a trap here.

She schooled her breathing, "I was acting undercover, gathering intel on the Brotherhood oligarchy, more specifically, on Walter Sykes, his men, and their part in this organization."

"Yes, yes," he waved away her words with the flick of a wrist, "And how exactly did you do this?"

"I'm sorry, I don't understand-,"

"What I mean is, who were you undercover as?" he was getting closer to the question he really wanted her to answer.

"I was Becks, the proprietor of a local gentleman's club." she chose her words carefully. Valda did not.

"You were a prostitute." he turned his back to her, showing only the other Regents his sneer.

"No," she ground out the word, her nails digging into her palms, "I ran a club and protected the dancers."

"So you're a pimp, then." he turned sharply back towards her, taking three long strides, putting his face a foot from hers, "Sold the bodies of others to Sykes men for a few hours, for a night."

"Madam." Rebecca took a breath, keeping her face blank.

"I'm sorry?" Valda pulled back, eyebrows twitching.

"Madam is the proper word for a woman who runs tricks." She continued, giving a small, cocksure smile that only he could see, "But no, I never let my dancers sell themselves for sex. Since coming under my employ, they didn't have to."

"Tell me something, Ms. St. Clair-,"

"Agent," She corrected sharply, "Or Specialist, if you prefer, though I am no longer on active duty."

"Agent St. Clair," he allowed, "Can you please explain to the Regents and myself just how an Intelligence Specialist with such an exemplary Naval record end up playing mother hen for strippers."

"You are under the assumption that this was my first choice, Regent," her voice was strong, firm, she would not allow him to crawl under her skin, "I wanted to serve my country, and I am doing so-,"

"By being the top bitch? Head stripper in a group of criminals?"

"I am doing so by playing to the enemies weakness."

"Which is located in Walter Sykes pants?" he smirked.

"Which is located in his wallet." She was quicker than he was, and the verbal volley came to a screeching halt on his end, "All Sykes cares about is numbers and dead presidents. I took away a lucrative business from him, forcing him to loose millions or team up with me. And that's not all I had access to. Men talk, Regent, more so when they are trying to impress attractive people. Now add lust and alcohol- me and my dancers," she emphasized the word, "We know so many dirty secrets Sykes believes hidden behind the skeletons in his closet. I still am an intelligence officer, I've just changed my uniform and means of gathering information."

"You would have us believe that this is what the Warehouse needs to take down the Brotherhood. That you skipping around town in short skirts and high heels is you just doing your patriotic duty."

"I did as I was instructed. I went undercover in a corner of Sykes operations, I gathered Intel. Valuable intel that we need. And all you want to focus on is my outfit?" she snapped, "Agent Valda, I am beginning to think you have a problem with me."

"Why would I have a problem with you?" Valda's voice feigned innocence, "You were only doing your duty, what you needed to do for the mission. You were only playing your part in this travesty.


	29. 28: Let the Chips Fall Where they May Pt. II

**STEVEN**

_What am I doing here?_

Steve let the question rattle around his sleep deprived brain. HE could practically _feel_ the nanobots that made up CHAD scrambling around through his thoughts and memories, sending out electrical pulses, communicating, trying desperately to help him puzzle out just what the hell was going on.

The longer Steve Jinks went on living with the AI in his head, the more personality she developed, and it was beginning to feel more and more like he was two people, sharing one body. CHAD and Steve both wondered if the same thing was happening with the other Agents and their AIs.

“ _He’s waiting for an answer, Steven.”_ CHAD chided him after a long moment.

“I’m sorry?” Steve shook his head, trying to buy himself a few more seconds.

CHAD sighed heavily, and Steve had to make an effort to stop her from rolling their eyes.

“I asked, Agent Jinks, if you had any idea why you are here today,” Valda gestured to the room around them, the bored looking Regents seeming to begin to wonder the same thing.

There was a clock in the room. It was gradually slowing, CHAD noted. The batteries would need to be changed soon.

“Maybe you could tell me,” Those weren’t his words, though they were said with his mouth, through his voice, they originated in another mind, “Because, as far as I know, Agent’s don’t normally get dragged out of deep cover, risking the entire operation, without some kind of reason.”

Valda’s answering smile was sharp and fake, “While you’re right, Agent Jinks, you and your team seem to have found yourselves in, what the lawyers would call, extenuating circumstances.”

There was a sudden tumult in Steve’s stomach, a shock up his spinal cord that settled as a lump in his throat, a split second before CHAD chirped suspiciously, “ _That’s not quite the truth, now is it?”_

CHAD wanted to call him a liar and watch his reaction, but Steve knew they needed to tread a bit more carefully with this man. There was a snake like coldness in his eyes, a watery gleam that set Steve’s neck hair on end.

“I don’t really understand, Sir,” Steve smiled, tilting his head slightly, “Maybe you could explain to me just how my team has made themselves a target of this board?”

“I can’t discuss you the other Agent’s with you-,”

“Then how about just me then?” Steve interrupted, “What have I done to land me in this chair? Is it something I can clear up quickly? I don’t know if you understand the magnitude of the case we are working on.”

“Why don’t you enlighten me then, Agent?”

CHAD wanted to wipe that stupid little smirk off of his face, a sentiment she and Jinks shared, “I’m sorry, sir, but most of what we do is classified.”

“I assure you, Agent Jinks, I have the clearance to know about all you’ve done-,”

“If that were true,” Steve interrupted, “Then you would already know all about what we were doing and why. And if that were the case this whole meeting would be either a charade or a waste of time. So which is it, Regent Valda, are you trying to play a game or are you just wasting our time?”

Valda’s eyes were ice turned steel, his smile a twitch away from being a sneer.

_So he doesn’t know as much as he’s pretending._

That was helpful information, but not near enough to get a good enough handle on the situation he and his team were in.

Valda elected to ignore Steve’s challenge, “Tell me about your partner.”

“Claudia? She’s never really in the field with me-,”

“Tell me about Sally Stukowski.”

Steve’s heart stuttered, but in his panicked lapse, CHAD seized control of their body and the situation, so the pause was imperceptible.

“Sally Stukowski was Walter Sykes’ foster sister. He was already a teenager when she was brought into their parent’s house, but they still were very close. So we hypothesized that she was using both the police system to work for her brother, and her brother’s own connections to advance her own career in the force as quickly as she has.”

“And?” Valda tilted his head towards them, giving a small impatient gesture with his hand, “Has this hypothesis become fact?”

“Yes and no.” CHAD was treading carefully, analyzing every facial twitch, every breath, controlling every minute muscle in Steve’s body.

Lying was impossible for the Agent. Having always had the ability to see through every layer of deception, he never learned to adapt and use them for himself. CHAD never stopped learning. There were a hundred tells to a liar in the face alone, blinking too much or not enough, eye contact, fidgeting, twitching… there was a balance to be held.

“Walter Sykes uses his sister under the guise of helping her. He, or one of his cronies, feeds her information on crimes in the city. Usually against rivals or those who step out of line. After all it would be suspicious if members of the Brotherhood never got pinched.” CHAD shrugged, “She doesn’t even know he’s using her. And now we’ve grown close, and I’m supposed to meet her family, including Sykes, this weekend for a barbeque. That is,” she allowed with a smirk, “If my team and I are not still being court martialed.”

“Well,” Valda fixed the papers on his table, “Perhaps we will be fortunate enough to get to the bottom of this fiasco of a mission and you and your team can get back to the _good_ work you’ve been doing.”

 _What does that mean?_ Steve panicked quietly, fearing they had seen through CHAD’s words as he would have.

 _He’s just fishing for a reason to take over this operation, a reason to pull us out, a reason for jeopardizing years and millions of dollars of work. He’s just fishing._ CHAD assured him as a nameless agent lead him from his seat.

“Oh, one last thing to consider, Agent Jinks,” Valda reached out, stopping his progress with a hand on his shoulder, “Should this matter b resolved and you are allowed to return to your work, there will need to be sacrifices and those caught in the crossfire… well, what can I say but warn you not to become too involved. This is, after all, a mission.”

Cold dread settled in the pit of Steve’s chest as he was lead through the double doors. Pete was there, waiting with his own armed guard. He tried to rise, calling to his friend, but the agent shoved him back into his seat and the hallway grew between them.

 _Could you warn him?_ Steve asked, _Prepare him somehow?_

 _They jammed the network when they replaced Agent Donovan._ CHAD said forlornly, _We are all on our own._

* * *

 

**PETER**

“You’re an alcoholic.”

Pete flinched, “Recovered. I’m six years sober coming up.”

“Right,” Valda nodded, seeming to consult his notes for a moment, “But then again there is that saying, isn’t there? Once an addict…”

Pete’s eyes narrowed, “I don’t know what you’re implying, Sir, but I am too motivated to fall off the wagon now.”

“How’s your pain management coming along?” Valda asked, “Have you had to call your sponsor?”

Pete’s fist clenched on his thigh, “I haven’t needed any pain killers since that first week. I’m all patched up now, and Doc says it was like I was never shot.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Valda’s sentiment was so false it was almost laughable, “Now on to the tougher questions. You were hired by a group of mercenaries belonging to the Brotherhood, correct?”

“Yes, Myka and I were supposed to infiltrate MacPherson’s ranks. And we figured my background as a Marine would appeal to the private security outfit owned by the Brotherhood.”

“But that didn’t last very long, did it?” Valda flipped through his papers again, making Pete nervous.

 _It’s just your reports he’s reading, calm down._ SARA tried to sooth him, but her voice held an edge to it. _He only knows what we’ve already told him. Stay calm._

“Tell me about this Amanda Martin. How did you come to be her body guard?”

“I prevented an attempted assault on her person while she was with some friends at a club I was hired to work at.”

“Hired by whom?”

“MacPherson’s security team. I was to keep the college kids in line while they spent their money and got too wasted to stand. I saw Ms. Martin accept a drink from a man that had been spiked. With the help of SARA I-,”

“I’m sorry, who is Sarah?” Valda interrupted the flow of story once more.

 _He’s trying to fluster you,_ SARA informed him, _That’s why he brought up the alcohol and why he keeps cutting you off._

Pete knew that already, or, at least, he suspected. But it was nice for the super computer that lived in his head to confirm it for him. She had been so quiet since Fargo started poking around Claudia’s computers. The AI didn’t seem to like him very much and didn’t want to log anything he would read.\

“S-A-R-A,” Pete spelled with exaggerated slowness, “ _Self Actuated Robotic Awareness,_ but SARA is easier. She’s the AI Tesla and Farnsworth stuck in my ear. SARA helped me find a way out of the club, so I was able to reach Amanda just in time, however, her security team didn’t wait for the whole story before they scooped me up. They brought me before Nate Watkins, who decided to reassign me to guard only Ms. Martin.”

“And why was that?” Valda didn’t even give him a moment to breathe.

“I didn’t know it at the time, I thought she was only a local celebrity of sorts, a starlit, it wasn’t until later that all the pieces fell into place.”

“Was that before or after you took a bullet for her?”

 _Lie_. SARA prompted.

“Before. Ms. Martin and I spent a lot of time together, and she let it slip one day that her father was an important man, that he was heavily involved in the local politics, healthcare even lawyers. That’s when I remembered that MacPherson’s file linked him to each of these entities in Univille.”

“And what excactly is your relationship with Amanda Martin now?” his voice dripped in honey, a lulling trap.

“I’m still undercover as her personal body guard.” An electrical warning zipped through Pete, tasting like copper on his tongue.

“Perhaps I should reword,” Valda gave a long suffering look to the seven regents taking notes at their table, “Do you believe you may be compromised do to your feelings for MacPherson’s daughter?”

“No,” he answered, knowing it came out too fast, he needed a recovery and quickly, “In fact, we noticed the target’s developing feelings for me and decided to use it to our advantage, possibly flipping her against her father if it comes to light that she knows more about her father’s business than she is letting on. And since I saved his daughters life, MacPherson has met with me personally, offering me anything I may need in recovery and inviting me to continue to guard his daughter.”

“This was your idea, then?”

“It was a collaboration with my team.”

“And the Colonel? He supported this little plan of yours?”

Pete couldn’t very well say that Artie knew nothing of the plan, that would make him look bad. But Pete felt like an outright lie would be seen through by this scheming little man.

“Colonel Nielson supports us, encourages us to make our own decisions when we are in the field. When we are so deep undercover and out there alone except our AI’s and partners, we can’t pause to ask permission for every move we make.”

“Of course not,” Valda smiled, “I just hope you and your team have made the right decisions.

* * *

 

**CLAUDIA**

“Perhaps you can explain to me, Ms. Donovan, how someone with your… background has made it this far.”

“I don’t think I know what you mean,” Claudia’s voice was dangerous. She had been scared before, scared for her family, for her life, for her job. As time went on, however, she became furious.

“You were expelled from three different schools, bounced around several foster homes, ended up in juvenile hall until you were eighteen and then you were moved to a mental health facility.” Valda listed each of these things as if they were terrible charges being brought against her.

“I didn’t have a great start but I did with it what I could.”

“Your twin brother had the very same start as you, did he not? And yet Agent Ashmore seems well adjusted. Graduating at sixteen and holding four degrees. Why is it that Joshua seems to be excelling where you are floundering?”

 _Breathe, Claud, breathe._ ERIN whispered softly in her ear, _Don’t let him get under your skin. Breathe._

“How _is_ your mental health?”

“Oh just peachy,” She made the sneer sound almost sincere, but she couldn’t help herself, she was too high strung and full of angry anxiety, “I find that these bi monthly kidnappings are just the thing every paranoid schizophrenic needs to reassure them it isn’t all just in their head.”

“Paranoid schizophrenia, that was the diagnosis given to you by the doctors at The Meadows, correct?” he began to flip through the pages on his table.

 _Damn it,_ “As a way to cover up what _they_ did to my family.”

“Yes, here it is, ‘Paranoid behavior with obsessive thinking and delusions of grandeur.’” It was your belief that members of Manifestus specifically targeted and killed your parents and older sister, correct?”

“It wasn’t a belief, I _saw_ it happen.” She ground her teeth together, “I hid under my bed so I wouldn’t have to go to school. Josh had gone early with friends to play and I pretended to go with him. I heard the door bang open. Yelling, gun shots… Clair was screaming and then there was silence.”

“Your parents died in a car accident,” Valda spoke with a tone of condescension that had Claudia snapping back to the present with anger boiling in her veins, “That’s the official police and coroner’s report.”

“It was a cover up, Monterey is the headquarters for Manifestus, that whole town is corrupt.” Claudia crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head, she wasn’t going to have this argument again. People had been questioning her story for her entire life, she was done.

“I just don’t know how we can believe you Claudia, if you are lying about this tragic life event, how can we trust your word on anything you say about the mission you are on?”

“What are you talking about?” his tone was making her feel sick suddenly.

“Well, you have asserted that you witnessed your parents and sisters murder, but we know that can’t possibly be true, because your sister is here in the city.”

“What?” her voice sounded small in her ears.

“Yes, we know about Clair,” Valda shook his head, “We haven’t recovered much from your heavily encrypted files, but we’ve seen some of Agent Jinks and Agent Bering’s feeds and we ran into a Clair Donovan, did a bit of facial approximation recognition and its her. Now, how does a dead woman end up in this city, I wonder. I for one would like to ask her.”

 _Emily Lake’s friend Clair,_ ERIN guessed, _That’s who they are talking about._

Claudia tried to recall the woman’s face, but she had always been so preoccupied with Myka and Emily, everyone else was a generic blob. _Could she really be her sister? Was this all a trick to make her feel crazy? Was it all just a coincidence?_

She couldn’t afford the racing thoughts now, she needed to think of her team, her _family_. They needed her to be calm and in control. Drawing on years of shutting down around foster parents, doctors and juvie guards, she forced herself to take a breath and shrugged. “Look, all I ever said was I heard gunshots and then the police were telling me my parents and sister were dead. It was them who said she was dead and I took them on their word. If this woman is my sister as you say she is, I haven’t spoken to her, though I would like to.”

“So you still stand by your statement that it was Manifestus that killed your parents?” Valda seemed amused.

“I do.” She could still remember thirteen year old Clair terrified, pleading with her parents that something was wrong, there was someone making her uncomfortable. Their hushed fearful whispers about a man named Thomas Gentry coming after them. It wasn’t until she repeated the name to a police officer that she found out he was the heir apparent for the Manifestus mob.

“Are you mentally stable?” Valda was growing frustrated.

 “You’d have to ask my doctors about that.”

“I assure you I will.” The Regent began to pace, “You have heavily encrypted your computers, reprogramed the AI’s given to you by the Warehouse and steadfastly refused to allow another computer tech to go through your files. Why should we trust you when you are being so secretive with us?”

“Because that’s my job,” Claudia finally snapped, “Maybe the Regents have forgotten that they sent us in here and told us to keep it a secret from everyone.”

“Not from us!” he growled slamming his hands down on the table.

“I work for a classified team,” she grew more self assured and calm while the Regent seemed to be losing his patience. “We only answer to Artie, and he only answers to Kosan. So unless you are secretly Regent Kosan, you don’t get to know everything.”

“I am here under direct order from Kosan,” he argued.

“To do what?”

Valda shut down.

“Excuse me for saying this, Regent, but the only reason our team is even compromised is because the Warehouse 11 team found out about us from someone in Warehouse 1 and decided to stick their nose over here, were stupid about it and got murdered. Now, if _I_ was the commander of that team, or say, the Regent in charge of that Warehouse, I would be really embarrassed if my team compromised the biggest mission to date and ended up getting people killed. And I would have to ask how he learned such sensitive information and why he thought he should pass it along to his lead commander.”

Valda’s face turned red.

 _Gotcha._ “You wouldn’t happen to know who the Regent of Warehouse 11 is?” Claudia knew, had long ago hacked her way into every other Warehouse database, but even if she hadn’t, it wouldn’t take a big leap to guess that Valda, the first Regent to appear right after the Warehouse 11 team, belonged there, “Because I think he should be answering a few questions as well.”

“That’ll be enough for now, Agent Donovan,” He waved impatiently and before she could protest two agents were on either side of her, lifting her from her seat and taking her out the door.

She refused to kick or scream or resist in any way, she just smiled and winked at the Regent as the doors closed between them.

* * *

 

**MYKA**

“I’m sorry,” Valda’s sharp voice cracked in the room, “Are we boring you, Detective?”

Myka refocused her eyes from where they had wandered, “Honestly? Yes, and since you’ve kept me awake for over forty eight hours I’m having a little difficulty paying close attention to your grandstanding.”

Myka guessed she had to be the last one they called to question. She didn’t know how long she had been in the Warehouse, but she had been fed four times, and the seven Regents sitting in judgement looked worn and bored with this show as much as she.

“So if you would just skip the intimidation I’m sure worked just _wonderfully_ on the rest of my team and get straight to the questions, well we all would be just grateful to get back to our jobs.”

“You scored the best overall out of your entire team in training, and yet you were given perhaps the most mundane task, why is that?”

“I have no idea,” Myka admitted, but gave no further information.

He head was pounding, her nose and ears were still sporadically bleeding, and the silence that filled her with MARLE’s absence was crushing. She had seen Vanessa a few times, and was informed Tesla and Farnsworth were to arrive shortly, but no one would admit her to be seen by them until after her debriefing.

 _They don’t want me to have MARLE,_ she guessed. Her AI could connect her to the rest of her team, to the outside world. They needed her isolated.

“For someone who wants to get this over with, you seem very reluctant to answer any of my questions, Detective.”

“I can’t very well answer questions I don’t know the answer to, can I? I was given an assignment and I did it.”

“How about an easier question, one only you would know the answer to,” Valda paced with his hands behind his back, stopping suddenly to look at Myka, “Are you compromised?”

“What?” her heart was in her throat. _Yes, yes, yes, compromised._

She had to shake the intrusive thoughts, she had been awake too long.

Valda took that as a denial, “Really? Because in your file it says you have a 2% corruptibility score, the highest out of your team. But we know why that is. Sam Martino.”

“Sam?” Myka blinked, “What does Sam have to do with this?” had _those_ rumors followed her all the way here? She herself had almost forgot the accusations brought against her by members of her police department.

“Come on Detective, we know he was a member of Manifestus. He worked for the west coast mob, cleaned up their mess. Now you either knew about this and didn’t care or else you too were involved in his criminal activities. Those are the two _good_ options really, the third being that you really didn’t know. That would mean you were too dense to see when your own self-proclaimed best friend was involved in a mob. If that were the case, how could we possibly expect you to sniff out mob activity here?”

“Sam wasn’t part of Manifestus.” Myka shook her head in defiance, this couldn’t have possibly happened to her twice.

“Oh, but he was,” Valda insisted, “And I guess that means we have our answer. Detective Martino had been a member of Manifestus since college, and when you two became partners, you stepped on someone’s toes and he was ordered to take you out. He refused and died for it. So, at least you seem to garner loyalty from mobsters.”

Myka let out a short burst of hysterical laughter, “I’m sorry. This is all so _fucking_ ridiculous. If Sam was a part of Manifestus he was the worst mobster that ever lived. I saw him cry when he accidently ran over a bunny!”

“I assure you, Detective, we have undeniable-,”

“It’s Agent, by the way,” she cut him off. “You keep saying detective, but I handed my shield in before I left Colorado and have since become an Agent, or didn’t you know? I know that our team is a little above your pay grade.”

She knew she was pushing her luck, but if he was trying so hard he had to pull her old partner out to try and trip her up, he knew nothing about Helena. They were both safe, for the time being at least.

“Tell me about your girlfriend.”

“My what?” Myka paled, thinking she had hoped too soon.

“Emily Lake, isn’t it?” Valda tilted his head, “The woman you left to fuck in the middle of a debriefing?”

“Yes,” she swallowed, “Though I wouldn’t call her my girlfriend. She is a font of information, however.” Myka was scrambling, searching for a foothold to keep them away from her, “Or at least, I hoped she was. We were informed that a Warehouse Agent had been killed, and Emily owns a club very popular with Brotherhood men who love to talk. I was hoping she had heard something. She didn’t know anything, but that’s not to say she might not be useful in the future, I need to keep her trailing after me somehow.”

“So you slept with her? I’m sorry, I fail to see how-,”

“It’s what I was told to do, that was my assignment, sleep my way up the ladder.” Myka’s words tasted like poison in her mouth, reducing her and Helena’s relationship down to being an assignment felt… wrong.

“Your assignment was to seduce information out of people?”

“You have my file, don’t you?”

“I do, though it doesn’t say you had to sleep with random bar tenders.” He pretended to read it over, “I think the idea was for you to worm your way into the heart of one of the Brotherhoods more prominent figures.”

“Look, Regent Valda, no offense, but you have no idea what you’re talking about.” Myka rose to her feet, “My team and I have been working this mission from day one, you can’t just swoop in and try to understand everything when you don’t really have much to go off of. We are secret agents, Regent, most of what we do every day won’t be in any file. When this city falls no one will know our names. You guys wanted plausible deniability if this all went south, you can’t come in in the nineth inning and expect to change how we’ve been running it from the beginning. We were given a mission, and we intend to finish it.”

“Oh it will be finished,” Valda assured her, “The question only remains now who will be there to see it to the end. I think I got enough information from you, Agent. You may go.”

 _As if I wasn’t already leaving._ Myka thought as she walked out the double doors and right into a white lab coat clad man.

“Are you ready to have your brain poked and prodded?”

Myka pulled back and blinked, trying to understand the sudden shift in everything around her. She hadn’t expected she would make it out the door when she stood up, she kept expecting someone to grab her and put the bag back over her head.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re Agent Bering, I’m Nikola Tesla, we have met before,” he shone a bright light in her eyes, “Are you having memory difficulties, Agent? That could be a symptom…”

“Would people stop doing that,” she blinked and shoved the light away, “I remember who you are, I just… wasn’t expecting you here.”

“Let’s go look at that brain of yours shall we? You’re not claustrophobic are you?” he asked as he led her further away from the room of regents.

A fully furnished and stocked medical wing now sat in a corner of the Warehouse where there had once been dust and paper filled shelves, looking shiny and clean and mostly chrome.

 “It’s good to see they haven’t been idle in setting this place up,” Myka nodded to her surroundings.

“Yes, yes, I’m only fortunate this is the first place the decided to start, the rest of the building looks much the same as before I’m afraid.” Nikola sighed, “But Vanessa has always seen further ahead then any of these other short sighted fools. I should have seen you much sooner, we have no idea what is going on in that bot infested head of yours. Here, take this.”

“What is it?” Myka took the pill he produced, time was jumping funny for her again now that the adrenaline had passed.

“It’ll help you stay still for the MRI,” he assured.

Myka didn’t bother pointing out that it wasn’t really an answer and just took the pill.

She closed her eyes and floated away briefly and arms wrapped around her as her knees gave out, “Whoa, that was fast.” She tried to complain, but it sounded like garbeled nonsense.

“Shush now, just let go and sleep agent,” Nikola’s voice echoed down to her from far away, “It’s best if you think of happy thougths as you drift away. And when you wake, you’ll be good as new. Sleep now Myka.”

His voice changed, lilted, became beautiful.

“Helena,” she sighed happily, the feeling of fingers brushing back her hair lulling her. She could smell the woman all around her, see her smile, her beautiful eyes. She filled with peace and serenity. And she let go.


	30. Serenity

 

**_Helena_ **

_Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change…_

The familiar words wrapped around her, grounding her, reminding her who she was. What she was.

_… the courage to change the things I can…_

That’s why she was here to begin with, right? Why she ended up in Univille? To change everything that went wrong so long ago. To make it _right_ again.

_… and the wisdom to know the difference._

Though she would need a time machine to change what really mattered.

There was smiling and hugging as everyone rose from the old metal folding chairs, talking quietly to each other as they gathered around the coffee and snacks at the back of the sanctuary. Helena stood off to the side, wrapping her hands around her arms, staring at the stained glass windows, closing her eyes as the sun’s last rays of warmth filtered through to land on her face.

They had been beautiful once, Helena knew, but now they were unwashed, covered in grime and dust, some of the color seemed to be washing out of the once vibrant panes. Why hadn’t she made this church one of her little projects? She had restored so much to Univille, historical land marks and parks, education and security, how had she let this place go by the wayside when it had done so much for her?

She was making plans to correct her oversight already, knowing her brain was focusing on it in order to ignore the bigger issues at hand, but that was what the prayer told her to do. Change the things she could and to accept when she couldn’t.

“Emily,” a soft familiar voice startled her, she spun to face it, but too quickly, and she wobbled on tired legs as her vision swam.

He reached out to steady her, a concerned smile on his weathered face, as his callused fingers brushed her skin soothingly, “You alright?”

Helena smiled, slightly embarrassed, “Just tired,” she assured the chaplain.

He led her a little ways away from the others, speaking even softer than usual, “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen you in a meeting. Even if you were just standing on the fringes, it was good to see you. How have you been?”

His sharp grey eyes studied her carefully, staring at the circles under her eyes, glancing briefly at her tightly crossed arms, her nails as they left small moons in her skin, and Helena knew what her old sponsor was doing, searching for the signs that she had slipped up after so long.

“I’m just tired, Chap,” Helena assured him weakly, showing him the insides of her arms.

“I always told you it was dangerous to work in that bar of yours, tempting the demons is a deadly game, Emily,” He shook his head, but now seemed less concerned.

They sat together in a candle lit corner, and Helena wondered if the lights had been cut off in the building again. The only parishioners who attended this old church now were addicts and other support group attendees. Junkies didn’t have much money left over for tithing, and Helena remembered more than once the water and electricity companies turning off the amenities.

“Alcohol wasn’t my vice, Chap,” Helena shrugged, “And I don’t allow any business in my club.”

“Addiction is addiction, Emily,” he argued, “And replacing one with another isn’t how you get healthy. Staying sober means abstaining from alcohol as well as drugs.”

“I know,” Helena mumbled even as she made excuses for herself silently. After all, she only had a glass of wine occasionally, knowing that if she was drunk when a panic attack or craving hit, she was more vulnerable to giving in to the itch that lived just below her skin.

“Not that I haven’t missed you,” Chap continued when he sensed the darkness in her, “And my ego would like to believe you came by because you missed _me,_ but something tells me there’s more to it than that. What was it?”

“I was doing very well, Chap,” Helena felt the tears welling, “Better than well, really. Life seemed to be on the upturn for the first time in ten years. I met someone who is… absolutely amazing.  She is good and kind and smart, absolutely, devastatingly beautiful. But,”  
 Helena hesitated.

“But you found out she’s not perfect.” He guessed.

“It’s not that,” she shook her head, breathing slowly, “Do you remember what I told you when we first met? You asked me what started my addiction.”

“I didn’t ask you, Emily, I merely gave you my story and you felt the need to reciprocate.” Chap shook his head, “I didn’t ask you to divulge what happened to you, that was a step you made on your own, and it was a big step.”

Chap’s real name was Bennett Sutton, and he had served as a chaplain in the army through what the American’s called the War of Ice. He had given last rights to hundreds of grievously injured soldiers as they lay dying in the mud of trenches, in bunks, in war camps. Sat and listened to thousands of confessions of atrocities he hadn’t even been able to imagine. He started drinking while overseas and moved on to harder things when they discharged him. He was only trying to forget the sounds and smells of so many men and woman dying all around him, but he lost himself and his wife and son when they couldn’t handle him anymore.

His story had been dark and graphic and Helena’s own story had come pouring out of her mouth in the silence that followed. Chap was the only one who had heard Helena’s entire story from beginning to end.

“Do you remember me talking about the Warehouse?” Helena continued, “I remember thinking I was so _lucky_ when that Warehouse agent appeared out of nowhere.”

There had been shouting. The man assigned to watch her in the basement of the senator’s house was drunk and yelling. She was in so much pain, the manacles on her leg digging into her swollen ankle. She just needed him to listen, something was _wrong_.

Then there was a loud crack, the light left his glassy eyes and the thug crumpled to the ground in a pool of his own blood. A silhouette stood against the swinging light.

“ _It’s going to be okay_.” He promised.

And Helena had believed him. Believed him as he cut her free and mumbled his name into her ear as he lifted her easily in his arms. Believed him as he carried her through the chaos that descended on the mansion.

 _What a fool I was._ She scoffed to herself.

She had so blindly believed in that mysterious entity that was the Warehouse, when she had heard tales whispered around the Senator’s house. She had even gone so far as to wish for their intervention as her world got darker towards the end. And here she was, made a fool once again by them, tricked into trusting one of their agents once more, only to have it all ripped out from beneath her feet.

“What is it, Em?” Chaps voice broke through the fog of her memory.

“It doesn’t matter,” Helena shook her head, “I was put on a path that day, Bennett, one I now know that I can’s stray from, no more than I can run from my past, I can’t change it, hard as I might want to. I can’t do anything but move forward now.”

“I don’t like that look in your eye, Emily,” Chap’s voice was low, his eyes searching, “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to take down the Warehouse.”

 

**_Myka_ **

“How are the migraines?” Doctor Calder asked, shining a light at each of her eyes in turn.

“Better,” Myka resisted the urge to bolt for the open door that lay just beyond the Doctor’s shoulder, “As long as there are no loud noises, or bright lights, or movement of any kind…”

She wasn’t a prisoner, not really any way. She could leave her room if she wanted, but not the house. She could talk to her fellow agents, but no one from the outside. There was no outside connection that she had access to. Maybe Claudia had one, but Myka hadn’t worked up the strength to fight if they were caught.

They had been effectively been sitting on their hands in the boarded up bed and breakfast for weeks, waiting for the verdict to come down from the Regents. They hadn’t been allowed to continue their investigation in any capacity, not even to review the months of evidence and recon they had gathered.

“I could schedule another MRI,” The lines in Vanessa’s face deepened as she consulted her tablet, “But so far, it seems like there has been no permanent damage to your brain. You’re very lucky that you’re not dead, you know.” There was a flash of anger on her face as she snapped the cover closed on her device, “Honestly, Myka, what were you thinking?”

_I was thinking that I was unwilling to lose another person I loved._

But she couldn’t say that, she couldn’t tell them why she had forced her AI to shut down, sending the nanobots in her skull into a panicked frenzy with no controlling hand. Hopefully that would be corrected soon.

Claudia was working with Farnsworth and Tesla to recover the corrupted AI from the grave Myka had sent her to by sheer force of will. But it was slow going, too slow for Myka. Her day was filled with splitting migraines, jumps in time, slowed thoughts and shaking hands.

She found herself, quite suddenly, sitting cross legged in bed. Not _her_ bed, but Rebecca’s, though the other woman didn’t seem to be there.

“They won’t find us here,” Claudia’s voice reassured her, “Or at least, not right away. ERIN judges that we have about an hour before anyone notices you’re not skulking about the house.”

“I don’t skulk.” Myka argued, “What are we doing here, Claud?”

The younger woman looked at her worriedly, “They are getting worse, aren’t they? Your symptoms?” She held up a hand as Myka opened her mouth, “Don’t bother Mykes, you can’t even remember the last twenty minutes, can you? Do you even know how long you’ve been out of commission?”

“A month?” She guessed, scrambling to remember anything but pain and darkness.

“That’s an odd symptom.”

They were in a new room again. Myka felt like she was going to vomit.

“She thinks it’s been over a month since the trials,” Rebecca was pacing back and forth in front of her now, Claudia sat behind a computer while the two mad scientists looked at her with twin expressions of curiosity.

“She can’t even remember the verdict, how is she going to be able to go back in the field tomorrow?” Rebecca reached out for Myka, tenderly brushing a stray lock behind her ear, “We’ve been covering for her as best we can, but…” She pulled herself away completely, “Is MARLE ready yet?”

“As ready as it ever will be without the original specs to work off of,” Claudia was still typing away madly, and Myka was struggling to stay _here._

One of the men in the white lab coats was talking, moving towards her, she couldn’t quite recall his name anymore, but he grabbed her, trying to move her, holding her down.

Her body hadn’t decayed as much as her mind, however, and it responded before she could make sense of any of it, grabbing the man’s arm and twisting it away from her, feeling it protest under her unyielding finger tips. Her legs kicked out as more hands began to fall upon her.

“You’re going to hurt her!”

“Are you kidding me? She’s going to hurt us!”

“Get her to be quiet and calm down or we are all fucked!”

“Myka, sweetie, shh, it’s all right.”

A warm body pressed against her back, she realized she was cold and shivered into its protection, losing her fight all at once.

“That’s right, take a deep breath,” Rebecca’s voice was a vibration on her spine as she was pulled tighter against her chest, “You’re safe, you’re safe,” She reassured over and over again.

Hands, soft and undemanding, began to run along her arms, her face, through her hair.

“It’s alright,” Rebecca’s voice cracked as she wiped tears from Myka’s cheeks, it’s all going to be better, I promise.”

She twisted their legs together as they lay down, making her feel protected while also protecting the poor doctors from her flailing should she start attacking once more. One arm was thrown across Myka’s chest, pinning her arms close to her own body, while the other brushed her hair behind her head.

She continued to whisper platitudes and promises as the men took tentative steps towards the trained agent quickly losing her mind.

“You have to keep her still, this won’t feel pleasant, but it will do more harm if she fights it.”

“Just hurry up and do it,” Rebecca snapped, “Can’t you see she’s in pain?”

“Here goes nothing. Agent Donavan? The vile.”

There was a pop that reminded Myka of Saturday morning cartoons for some reason, and she giggled, and she cried, and she shook, and Rebecca held her tighter.

“It’s going to be okay.”

Fire was poured down her ear canal and she began to thrash and scream.

“Keep her quiet and still!”

A strong hand gripped her jaw, covering her mouth and keeping her down.

“I’m so sorry.” Rebecca whispered into the back of her head as her arms trapped Myka’s thrashing body.

But her sorrow didn’t stop the fire as it consumed her whole head. It burned through everything, her thoughts her memories her senses. The fire was all there was.

And then there was nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review if you would like to see this work updated on a regular basis once more


	31. Awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with this story for the last three years. With out your encouragement, we wouldn't have made it here.

 

_**Myka** _

She felt safe. Warm. Loved.

That was the first hint that something was wrong.

Her eyes flew open, her heart pounding in her throat as her restraints tightened around her. A soft murmur accompanied the movement, and Myka began to struggle once more.

_Calm down, it’s just Agent St. Clair. She’s been up half the night taking care of you, and might I say you were not an easy patient. You should let her sleep._

“MARLE?”  Myka whispered, tears filling her eyes. Her voice cracked, her throat raw and mouth tasting of blood.

 _At your service, but please, don’t try and shut me down again._ Her voice, though Myka knew it was only electrical impulses tricking her brain, was such a relief to hear, even as it was scolding her, _Wrangling these old nanobots is exhausting work, and you aren’t quite recovered from the last time. To be honest, Claudia is rather unsure about whether or not you will ever be truly recovered._

“How long-?” She tried to ask, but the protest from behind her silenced her questions for the time being. She allowed Rebecca to bury her face in the back of her neck as she sought silence and sleep.

Once her breathing evened out once more, Myka began the slow process of untangling her limbs from her friend’s. Every time Rebecca moved or made a sound, Myka froze and counted until she felt it was safe.

When she was on her feet once more, Myka leaned over the cot and kissed Rebecca’s temple softly, “Thank you,” she whispered.

Myka glanced around the room, trying to piece together the events that lead to this moment, but it was no use. Everything was either a jumbled mess, or else it was just darkness. She wore nothing but her underwear, a tank top and a layer of sweat, but she felt cold, her bare feet on the linoleum floor aching. She searched with what little light filtered through the small window above her.

She knew she was in the basement of the BnB, even though it had under gone a few remodels to turn it into a mobile hospital of sorts, but she didn’t know who she would find up the steps. She didn’t want to face them so exposed and vulnerable.

A lab coat that fell to just above her knees was all she could manage, however. She felt bad for leaving Rebecca alone in the basement, but her muscles felt strained, too fatigued to carry her up the several flights of stairs to her bed. She would find a way to make it up to her. For everything.

 Myka walked on the balls of her feet, stopping every time a stair even threatened to squeak. She made it to the first landing, a little breathless, but in one piece.

_You have a lot of work to do to get your body back to the way it was. Even as short of a time that you were in active, the nanobots wreaked havoc, and your body attacked itself._

Her heart was pounding as she slowly pushed back the door. All was quiet and dark. No lights filtered through the windows from the outside, but a few lights were dimmed in the hall ways.

Myka walked around the first floor like a ghost, hands running over files on tables, dishes piled in the sink, coats and shoes discarded haphazardly. She had never seen the common areas so unkempt, it gave her an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

The carpeted stairs that lead to their bedrooms were easier to traverse, and her confidence in her surroundings and in her own legs was growing slowly.

All the doors were shut. Soft snores could be heard drifting from under a few. It was so normal and comforting, Myka could almost convince herself it was just another night, from before everything went to shit. She was just coming home late from a night out, or leaving for a late shift at Instinct.

She let herself be carried by autopilot to her room.

It looked as if a tornado had ripped its way through there, however, ripping her from the serene back drop of her family sleeping. Anger hit her first, the thought of faceless agents and regents going through her things boiling in her.

 _You did this, not the Warehouse_. MARLE informed her.

Myka walked further into the room, “What happened to me?”

_You weren’t exactly in control of yourself at the time, the nanobots were setting off random chain reactions and your brain interpreted it as best it could. Usually danger._

She didn’t want to be here anymore. She couldn’t fucking _breathe_. She needed to leave. She needed to be somewhere else.

No thought was paid to her outfit. Jeans, a shirt, boots. It didn’t matter anymore, she just needed to be decent enough to get out of here. Away from the creeping sense of foreboding that was choking her.

Myka stumbled out of the front door and into the great big world.

The air was humid and sticky, but not as unbearable as it had been the last time she could remember walking outside.

 _Still summer,_ she reasoned.

 _I don’t think this is such a good idea, Myka_ , MARLE warned.

“Then stop me,” she challenged, but the AI remained silent.

Myka knew she could, if she wanted. Not directly of course, but she could alert someone who could. She started running before she could get the chance.

Her chest began to ache shortly after she began, her legs screaming, but she pushed herself to continue. The horizon was lightening and she was running out of time.

“This is so stupid,” she panted, doubled over, “I should have brought a car, or money for a cab.”

 _If you had stopped to think for once in your life_ , the AI chided.

“Yeah, yeah,” She started to jog once more, not quite pushing her limits as before, but she was so close, almost halfway there.

There were black spots in her vision by the time she stumbled to a stop at the street light across from the bar. She was so close she could see people through the windows. They blocked the bar, all scrambling to get an order in at last call.

Tires screeched in protest as a car slammed on its breaks, inches from hitting her. Myka hadn’t even realized she was crossing the street, so intent she was on just seeing past the crowd, trying to make out the dark figure behind the bar.

She waved a halfhearted apology at the car and curses followed her to the door.

Sweat had her shirt sticking to her tightly, her hair splayed across her face and neck. She felt dizzy, light headed, woozy.

“I think I’m going to pass out.” She mumbled to herself.

 _Should I call someone?_ MARLE was panicking, Myka could taste it, but she shook her head in response.

She was too close to give up now. Ten feet from the bar. Eight. She focused on the open stool at the very end of the bar. She collapsed into it gratefully, her hands leaving slick marks on the counter top as she steadied herself.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink.” A voice said sternly in her direction.

Myka looked up, her heart already breaking as her gaze met an unfamiliar one. A blonde woman, stood behind the counter, serving the drunk, demanding customers without looking at them. She was good at her job, wasn’t mixing any orders up. You would think she had always worked here. Myka knew better.

“Just a water,” she croaked, licking her lips as she fought back tears, feeling absurd, “Please.” What had she been hoping for, really?

“Alright, love,” She nodded and reached for the hose, “Did you need me to call you a cab hun?” She slid the glass to Myka’s trembling hand.

Myka shook her head, “Maybe in a bit. I just want to sit for a while.”

The bar tender shrugged and moved on to other customers, not sparing her another glance.

Myka gulped the water as fast as she could, and never had anything tasted quite so sweet. When was the last time she had drunk anything? Like everything else, she couldn’t quite remember. When the glass was emptied, Myka studied it in her hands carefully. A few water spots had cultivated on it’s surface. Clearly this new girl wasn’t so diligent in all of her duties as Myka and Emily had been.

 _Helena,_ she corrected herself, _she was always Helena, even then._

It was hard to reconcile the two people in her mind. The grand myth of a man who helped run this city with an iron fist, and the woman who she loved were two separate people in her mind. HG Wells and Emily, and Helena lay somewhere in between those two.

Myka just wished she knew what was truth and what was a lie.

A hand clamped on her shoulder, not roughly or unkindly, but firmly none the less. “You need to come with me Myka.”

Clair spoke softly, not drawing attention to them as she put a hand at her back and pushed her away from the bar, “Please don’t try anything funny, I really don’t want to hurt you.”

Myka nodded and went with her willingly, “Where are you taking me?” she stumbled once moving, and had to lean on Clair for support, blinking away the encroaching darkness at the edges of her vision.

The shorter woman looked her over carefully, her brow furrowing at whatever she found there. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to take you anywhere. She just wants to see you.”

“She’s here?” Myka’s eyes drifted over the crowds around them.

“Upstairs,” Clair gestured with her chin as she wrapped an arm around her waist, “Can you make it up alright?”

With Helena at the other end waiting as a prize?

Myka nodded.

**_Helena_ **

Anger was boiling in her from the moment she saw a familiar brunette saunter into her bar and sit at the counter as if she hadn’t set Helena’s life aflame with lies and secrets. She sent Clair to fetch her, meaning to, once and for all, rid herself of the woman who could only cause her pain now.

She practiced in her mind over and over the words she would need to say. She must be cold, detached. She must be HG Wells. No more Helena, no more Emily. She was resolved. After she left this office, she and Myka Bering would no longer be intertwined. She would be nothing other than another Warehouse Agent to fall when the fingers of her army closed on this city.

All her resolve broke the moment Myka stumbled into her office.

Helena took a step forward, as if to catch her, but Clair was so much closer, steadying the agent with a look of dread concern on her face.

“Myka?” Helena asked, as if to make sure what she was seeing was _really_ the very same person she knew.

“Helena.” Myka noded, smiling sadly, it seemed. Her voice was raspy, as if fighting a bad cold.

There were dark, purple bruises under her eyes. Her pallor was almost grey, the whites of her eyes blood shot. There was a layer of sweat covering her, her hands twitching slightly every once in a while. She leaned slightly to one side, her hand reaching out to grasp the door frame to keep up right.

How long ago had Helena seen her? Surely it couldn’t have been more than a week ago. How had she deteriorated so quickly? What had that place done to her?

“She doesn’t look so good, Hel,” Clair pointed out the obvious when no one spoke for a long moment.

“What happened to her?” there was an accusing tone bleeding into Helena’s voice as her emotions ran rampant.

“She was like this when I found her!” Clair said defensively.

“I can hear you, you know.” Myka lurched forward again, eye lids fluttering.

This time HG was quicker, gathering Myka in her arms just before she hit the floor. She brushed the hair from her face, feeling the worrying fever that seemed to be growing hotter by the second. Myka shivered and leaned into the touch.

“What have they done to you?” Helena rocked her slightly back and forth, “I swear, when I get my hands on the person who did this to you, there is no power in the universe that can stop me from tearing them-,”

“Hey,” Myka protested, and HG realized how tightly her fingers were digging into her skin and slackened her grip slightly, “None of that… ‘s my own fault… I did it… had to…”

She was losing her, Helena knew as she watched the feverish eyes slip closed for longer and longer stretches of time, “What did you do? And in God’s name, why?”

“Had to protect you.” Myka scoffed, “Love you.”

“You foolish girl,” Helena’s eyes burned, lifting the woman in her arms, carrying her to the couch in the corner of her office.

“Clair,” Helena snapped, “Clear the bar, we need to get her out of here. And it wouldn’t do well for her to be seen in such a state.”

Her friend nodded sharply, seeming relieved to have a task to accomplish.

Helena rose, walking to her private bathroom and wetting a cloth in cool water. She ran it over Myka’s face slowly, noticing the nail marks that ran over her skin. An examination of her hands revealed she had done it to herself. The only experience Helena had with such symptoms was drugs, but she could find no track marks or chemical burns.

“What am I going to do with you?” she sighed.

“This is nice.” Myka mumbled, forcing her eyes open once again, “You could keep doing just this.”

“What the hell happened?” Helena demanded.

She felt robbed of her anger, she was righteous in that anger. She had every reason, every excuse to rage against this woman and everything she stood for. So why then, was the universe so cruel as to throw them together like this once again. Why was she nursing someone who, by all accounts, should be her enemy.

“The nanobots,” Myka lifted a heavy hand, touching her own temple, “I had to turn them off. I thought I turned them off. They only made my head hurt, I thought. I’m not sure. My memory isn’t so great right now.”

“Nanobots?” the inventor in her was intrigued, and she had to resist the urge to examine Myka’s head closely, “You and I shall have quite a bit to talk about when you are well. Tell me, love, do you have a tracker? Can the Warehouse find you?”

Myka nodded slowly, tapping her head again, “They are back up and running.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Helena scowled.

“I told her to stop relaying anything. She doesn’t want me to hurt myself again.” Myka’s words began to slur and stopped making any sense as she drifted more firmly into unconsciousness.

“What am I going to do with you?” Helena demanded once again.

“The club is clear,” Clair cleared her throat.

“Good,” Helena kicked off her heels and pulled Myka up into her arms.

“I can do that,” Clair offered.

“That’s quite alright.” Helena pulled away from her, “Just pull the car around to the back entrence, would you?”

“Of course,” Clair shuffled her feet as she held the door open for her, “But, where are we taking her?”

Helena’s face was grim set as she looked at the younger woman, “Somewhere they will never find her.”

 


End file.
